Just a Formality
by missparker85
Summary: Hermione takes over Professor McGonagall's class during her seventh year quickly befriends Snape who is much more relaxed when she is more of an equal and not just another student. HGSS. (complete.)
1. one

By the time Albus Dumbledore made it to the transfiguration classroom to inform the seventh years that Minerva would not be in today and probably never again, Hermione Granger had already started teaching the lesson. He was a little surprised but merely waited for a pause in her lecture before he went up and whispered something in her ear and she paled a little but nodded bravely. He apologized for the interruption to the class and went back to his office where several Order members were waiting to assess the situation.

Hermione was the head girl in her last year of Hogwarts and no one was shocked about that either. A few of the Slytherin protested her taking over the class for the rest of term but the NEWTS were on the horizon and so even Draco Malfoy stopped his whining when she helped him improve his transfiguring in a way that would probably improve his scores by a whole letter. She understood that taking over transfiguration meant missing most of her other classes so Harry brought an enchanted quill to class with him – something that was usually prohibited – and she got notes from class, word for word. It wasn't as if she hadn't read all of the books anyway. Secretly, she thought her attendance in class was just a formality.

The Gryffindors missed McGonagall and her absence remained wholly unexplained except to a select few. Dumbledore had said something about a much needed sabbatical but had told Hermione that she'd been injured while on assignment for the Order and was actually in the castle, in her chambers recovering but still unable to speak well or walk. She slept most of the day while Poppy flooed in every few hours to check on her. Hermione had told Harry and Ron since they knew about the Order anyway.

It was fun teaching but she was tired most of the time from doing all her homework and giving it to Harry to turn in and from doing all the grading for the hundreds of essays she received from every year weekly. Professor McGonagall had her lessons all planned out and so Hermione just followed them with few altercations. Every so often Dumbledore came by to poke his head in but no one acted up and no one had fallen behind. Everyone, even those who did not particularly like Miss Granger, knew she was bloody brilliant and respected her head girl status and with NEWTS creeping ever forward and a war so close it was taking out their very professors, no one caused any problems.

Well – the only problem that did occur was when she was grading. In the library, in the great hall, in the common room, students were always coming up to her asking about their grades and if there was still room for improvement. Even when she retreated to her bedroom – a luxury that had always been afforded to the head boy and girl – there were students knocking on her door pretending to search for a lost pet or borrow a quill who really just wanted inside knowledge on the next test or quiz. Finally, she gathered up some candles and all her grading after dinner one night and trudged up several flights of stairs to an empty tower on the northwest side of the castle on a floor and in a wing she wasn't exactly supposed to be in. There was a small, stone room she'd found one night on patrol that she wanted to try. It was dusty – she'd have to ask the house elves to clean it next time she saw one – but it would do. She conjured a desk and a chair; rustic but satisfactory. She didn't want to be too comfortable and fall asleep. She lit all her candles and sat down to work for a few hours on the third years. It nearly killed her to do it, but she didn't falter in the grading. Professor McGonagall had always returned their essay within one week of handing them in and Hermione did the same – regardless of the sleepless nights it took it to do so. She couldn't even remember a weekend where she just hung out or overslept or went to town.

She wasn't sure how long he'd been watching her but she looked up briefly to push a few curls out of her eye and nearly fell off her chair.

"Professor!" she said, standing, feeling guilty for some reason. Maybe because she'd found some peace and quiet and it was hard to come by in a castle so filled with life. Maybe because she wasn't supposed to be in that part of the castle even though as head girl it wasn't much of an infraction. "You scared… I mean, you're very stealthy, sir." She said, not wanting to admit fear to a man who seemed to thrive on it.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Miss Granger. I didn't think anyone else knew about this tower." he admitted. "Even I need to get above ground once in a while." she smiled at the potions master slightly for he was notorious for lurking about the dungeons and only coming upstairs for meals and patrol.

"The students are relentless about wanting to know their grades." she explained. "I just needed a place where I could do it all in peace."

"Understandable." he said. He came fully into the room and went over to the long, narrow, arched window that looked over the lake. "It's a full moon tonight." he commented. She was a bit surprised he'd not left or asked her to leave and was no making generic conversation.

"It's beautiful on the water like that." she agreed. "I can't help but think about Professor Lupin, though, and our third year." she said feeling almost social after being cooped up for so long. He glanced at her briefly as if to say he wasn't in the mood for reminiscing.

"Always getting into trouble." he murmured, not sounding angry, exactly.

"Always saving our lives." she countered, thinking of him standing in front of Harry, Ron, and herself, his arms outstretched to shield them with his own body. He'd grabbed on to her arm so tightly that night that in the morning she'd had bruises in the shape of his fingers but it was out of fear and not anger that he'd unintentionally hurt her and she felt a sort of longing when the marks disappeared from her skin. All trace of his heroics were gone and he was back to being bitter Professor Snape once again.

But here he was now, the moon reflecting on his white skin, looking forlorn and alone.

"You shouldn't have to come up here," he said, changing the subject. "to this dank, filthy room to continue to do everyone a favor."

"I don't mind…"

"Of course you don't, Gryffindor." he said. "But I can see you're exhausted. Gather your things. Follow me." he said. She had never argued with an order he gave her in that tone of voice so she blew out her candles and put everything in her bag that was beginning to fray on the shoulder strap from too much weight just as it did every year about this time. He walked beside her on the way down out of the tower, not in front of her and she appreciated that. They stopped at an unfamiliar portrait on the seventh floor and he said the password clearly so she could hear and remember it. "Poinsettia" The portrait of the two fishermen in a boat on a lake swung open and inside was a cozy room full of desks, tables, couches and a large, crackling fire place.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's the staff room." he said. "You are a part-time member of our staff now and I see no reason why you shouldn't do your grading here." he said. She stepped in and he followed her, allowing the portrait to close. It was mostly empty except for the two of them and Professor Flitwick who'd fallen asleep on one of the sofas and was snoring softly. Snape rolled his eyes. "This is Minerva's desk." he said, pointing to an antique wooden roll top desk that Hermione immediately coveted. She touched it reverently and smile at Snape.

"Thank you." she said. "You're being very kind, tonight."

"Are you surprised I have a soul, Miss Granger?" he asked, snidely.

"Just surprised you're letting me see." she countered and he nodded as if approving.

"I'll let you get on with it, then." he said and left her alone with Flitwicks's snores.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall asked to see Hermione. Dumbledore let her through the portrait that lead into the wing of the castle that held the staff quarters and stopped at a picture of a tabby cat. The portrait opened without a password and that made sense to Hermione. The staff trusted each other enough not to have to lock their rooms from one another and Hermione immediately wished for that sort of implicit trust in her life.

"Minerva!" Dumbledore called merrily. "Are you decent?"

"Of course." she called from the bedroom but the voice sounded paper thin. They went down a narrow hallway into her bedroom and Hermione worked hard to keep her reaction off of her face. The only way to describe her once lively and stern professor was translucent. The strength was gone and all that remained was the body barely hanging on. Her skin was so thin and pale she could see the veins underneath. Her hair was straggly and completely gray and she had deep circles beneath her eyes and oh, she was desperately thin. Her breathing was ragged and audible.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall." she said, timidly stepping forward into the room.

"I know I look awful." she said, smiling at the girl. "But my mind is sharp as it ever was. Have a seat. Thank you, Albus. I'd like a word alone with our head girl." Dumbledore nodded and left the room.

"It's good to see you." Hermione said, sitting at the chair by her bed. "Can I get you anything?"

"Oh no, Poppy was just in." she said. "I heard that you've quite saved the day."

"Oh, I don't know about that." she said. "I hope you don't mind. I never intended to replace you in anyway. It's just that you were late and it was so uncharacteristic and I thought if I started the lesson, you wouldn't have to make up for lost time when you came back but…" she faltered here. "You will come back?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Not before you graduate, I'm afraid. I've worked at Hogwarts a long time, now." she said. "Hermione, I never thought you were replacing me. I'm the most proud of you of any Gryffindor at this school." Hermione blushed but her eyes shined with gratitude.

"We miss you." she said, of her fellow house mates. "Professor _Trewlany_ is the interim head of house so you can imagine it's not been going well between us." Hermione confessed.

"She wasn't even a Gryffindor when she was a student." McGonagall complained. "No wonder Albus wouldn't tell me who."

"Yes. Mostly I just try to resolve everything myself without involving her. The students have been very respectful." she said. "The staff, too." she blushed, slightly at this, thinking of Snape sitting in the moonlight in the tower window, how it'd made her heart skip a beat to look at him.

"That's good. You're keeping up with the grading?" she asked. "If not, I can help. I just lay here all day."

"You are resting and healing, not laying here." Hermione said. "I keep up. Professor Snape showed me the staff room so I've been using your desk."

"Severus?" she asked.

"He sort of caught me one night hiding out in the northwest tower and he thought that a place with light might be more appropriate." she said. "He was very sweet about it, actually." McGonagall didn't respond, just raised her eyebrow.

"I just wanted to make sure everything was going well. And to let you know you can ask anything of me." she said, reaching out to clasp Hermione's hand in her cold, frail one. Hermione squeezed her hand.

"Of course, thank you." she said. "Professor? Do you mind if I asked what happened?" she asked.

"Ah. There was a group of Death Eaters in Hogsmeade." she said. "Albus got a tip that they had a student and I went out to… well, they didn't." she said, turning away. "If Severus hadn't been there…" she closed her eyes and Hermione bowed her head. "I think students ought to know what the _Crucio_ does to a person but…" she looked at Hermione with clear, sad eyes. "If only we could all fare as well as Severus when enduring the unthinkable curses." Hermione didn't know what to make of McGonagall's admittance of Snape's power.

"If you need _me_ Professor… I guess we can just be there for each other." she said. "I'll let you rest now." she stood and kissed McGonagall's cheek and let herself out, leaving the older woman to deal with her pain. Hermione was surprised to hear that Snape was as involved as he was. He'd been present in Dumbledore's office when she'd heard that McGonagall had been injured during work for the Order and he'd said nothing. As she was walking back to the transfiguration classroom for her afternoon classes, she saw Snape in passing, on his way downstairs to the dungeons as she was walking up. Their eyes met briefly and her heart missed a beat in just the same way it had before in the tower.

"Professor." she murmured.

"Miss Granger." he said. She felt her hand brush his robes and she turned her head to watch him walk away over her shoulder. His hair was so much longer now, in her last year, and he'd taken to tying it back with a strip of black leather. It no longer hung in his eyes or got greasy from hanging over cauldrons all day. Instead he looked aristocratic and regal. Shaking off the feeling he left her with, she finished her trek to the classroom and forced her self to focus on the lessons. She didn't think about him again until she saw him come into the staff room well past curfew. She was the only on in there. She'd spent most part of her evening doing homework – including a two foot essay for him – and now she had about three hundred essays to grade before tomorrow in order to get them back within a week.

"Miss Granger, you ought to be in bed." he said, pouring him self a cup of tea and sipping it from the far side of the room. "You are still a student."

"I don't have very much more." she lied. He looked at the stack in front of her and sighed, pulling a chair to her side and sitting down with a flourish.

"Hermione, no one expects you to be both student and teacher without extending your deadlines some." he said in a gentle voice she'd never heard before. She liked the way her first name sounded, dripping out of his mouth like velvet. She'd always loved to listen to him lecture. His voice was enchanting. She'd listen to him read the phonebook, if she could. She almost laughed out right. He'd probably have no idea what a phonebook even was.

"I can do it." she said.

"Let me help you." he said. She looked at him, stared right into his dark eyes searching for ulterior motives and found none. She wanted to reach out and touch his face. Who was this man?

"All right." she said. "That pile is the seventh years. I always feel the most guilty grading those, especially Ron and Harry's." she said. "You'll like giving them low grades as I find it to be abysmal." he chuckled and took the spare quill she offered him. Occasionally their hands bumped when going for the inkbottle at the same time. She could feel the heat coming off of him, sitting so close to her at the same desk, sharing space. Sometimes he read her particularly awful lines and she snickered at his precise sarcasm and observations. Once, he stopped and looked at her questioningly.

"Hermione this essay is yours." he said. She glanced over at it and nodded, recognizing her neat, round handwriting.

"Yes." she said, finally having reached the fourth year essays.

"You mean to tell me that you also complete the assignments that you assign?"

"It seems only fair." she said.

"No, Hermione, it's ridiculous." he said sounding suddenly angry. "You're driving yourself into the ground with this and I'm tired of watching you drag yourself around. I'm going to talk to Albus in the morning."

"No, Professor, please, I can handle it." she said.

"I can't believe that you do homework for your own class." he muttered, looking at the essay. "It's very good."

"I know." she whispered. "Professor, I…" but she didn't know what to say. She reached out for the essay and took it from his hands, shakily. "I don't want to let anyone down."

"Oh, dear girl." he said and did something that both comforted and frightened her. He gathered her up into his arms and let her rest her head on his shoulder, soothing her. She was a little rigid at first but the very smell of him – like Christmas spices – soothed her and she finally relaxed into embrace, completely drained. She didn't worry about anyone seeing them for it was nearly two in the morning now. She let him rub small circles on her back and she thought she felt – though she was nearly asleep at this point – she thought she felt him drop a kiss on the crown of her head.

Snape knew that he never should have touched her. He'd been so good at being mean to her for so long. The war, his position as a spy demanded it. He had to play favorites with his house and hate the Gryffindors, especially a show off mudblood like Hermione Granger. Truthfully, he was constantly impressed by her intelligence and now, as a seventh year, he saw her as a woman, not a child. Her position within the Order and now as a member of the staff, he felt that he didn't have to be quite so cruel to her, that he could give her the praise, attention, and affection the wondrous girl deserved. But now, with her in his arms, he found that he never wanted to let go. Her hair tickled his nose, the smell a little dizzying and he found himself smelling it and pressing his lips against the top of her head. She was sleeping now, exhausted, her breathing deep and even. They couldn't stay like this forever. He picked her up and she curled up in his arms. He expected her to wake up and leap out of his greasy, bitter embrace but instead she breathed deeply and stayed asleep. The poor thing. Why did Albus agree to let her take on the dual roles of full-time student and full-time professor? He would have to figure out some way to ease the pressure. But for the moment, he had an armful of Hermione and he had to figure out what to do with her. It was late enough that even the prefects had gone to bed and so he decided to carry her to the head girl's chambers. He didn't bother to light his wand. He knew the entire castle backward and forward and only called for light when he was in front of her portrait. It was a young girl – a dancer and she looked at him sleepily.

"Password?" she asked, yawning.

"I haven't a clue. But this is the head girl." he said.

"I can't let you in." she said. He sighed.

"Hermione." he said. She moaned a bit. "Hermione, love, what is your password?" he asked, startling himself as the endearment slipped past his lips. Hopefully, she would remember none of this.

"Alchemy." she muttered. The young dancer shrugged as if to say it was good enough for her and the portrait opened. He stepped in and the sitting room was tidy. There was a bathroom to the left and what must be her bedroom to the right. He went in to see the four poster bed made up in lavender bedding. He set her on the mattress and pulled a throw blanket over her. She curled up and remained fast asleep.

"Goodnight." he whispered and made his way out of her chambers.

"Goodnight, Severus." she whispered, after he'd gone.

This seemed to be a pattern with Professor Snape. He would be mostly out of her life for weeks at a time – she only saw him at meals and now she didn't even have him in classes anymore. But then he would appear to help her out just add a touch of kindness. She never thought that she'd use a phrase like 'touch of kindness' to describe the intimidating potions master but he was always so gentle with her. Not long after Snape had carried her to her room, Headmaster Dumbledore had approached Hermione and gave her a small, discreet box.

"I was instructed to return this to you. It seems you have need of it again." he said. "Open it when you are alone and don't overwork yourself, my dear." he said. She nodded, and made her way to her rooms. Inside the box was the small golden time turner from her third year. Suddenly everything seemed easy and she wasn't so tired. Now she could finish everything and still get a full night's sleep. Sure she'd have to be careful not to run into herself but she'd gotten quite proficient at it that third year of Hogwarts. After they'd saved Buckbeak, she'd returned it to the headmaster and now she held it once again. She knew that Snape had, in fact, gone to the headmaster and worked out a way to lighten her load. She felt like finding him, wherever he was in the castle and nestling herself in his arms once more.

By Saturday, she had the first morning free in… she wasn't sure how long. She had plans to visit Professor McGonagall in the afternoon but for now, she wasn't doing anything related to homework or teaching. She took a bath and put on some comfortable jeans and dug around in her trunk for a long-sleeved black shirt she knew she had somewhere. She didn't own very many dark colors but she felt like paying homage to Snape in the only way she could. She pulled on her warm cloak. It was early, still before breakfast, but she knew the library would be open and so she thought she might go read for leisure for awhile and then decide if she even wanted to eat breakfast. The time-turner was warm around her neck. No matter how cold it got, the gold never cooled – it was always humming against her skin.

She'd barely gotten to the library when she saw Snape walking towards her. He was the first person she'd seen as most everyone was still asleep on their Saturday morning. Even breakfast was served two hours later on the weekend. She should have figured Snape to be a morning person like her.

"Professor Snape." she said. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Miss Granger." he said. "You're up rather early."

"Morning person." she said. He smiled and she turned to continue to the library. She'd taken about six steps when he called after her.

"Miss Granger, I was just going to go for a morning walk." he said. She turned to face him and he looked almost hopeful. "Would you like to accompany me?" All thoughts of the library immediately disappeared from her head.

"I would love to." she said, turning back and together they left the castle. They stood, later, at the edge of the lake after a fairly silent but companionable walk. The water rippled just out of reach of their shoes. It was getting warmer now and the NEWTs were barely a month away.

"What will you do when you graduate?" Snape asked, breaking the silence and looking down at her. He was so tall and this morning his hair was loose around his shoulders. She'd charmed hers into a long French braid down her back, a few curls escaping around her face.

"I haven't a clue." she said. "I feel like I've not seen my parents in years and so I'll probably spend some time with them but…" she shrugged. "We're from different worlds now."

"You could stay." he said.

"Stay?" she asked, a little confused.

"Transfiguration. We've both seen Minerva. It will be years before she comes back if she does at all." he said.

"I suppose it depends on how I score on my NEWTs." she said. "I do all my homework and review all my notes but I've not been to a class in ages." she said. "I don't even know what any of my grades are right now." she said. "I feel like I'm floundering, a bit." She reached out and placed her hand on his black clothed forearm. "Thank you for the turner, though." He neither confirmed nor denied his involvement.

"You're still the top of the class." he said. "I think if you took your NEWTs now you'd be fine." He turned to look at her again. "In fact, that could probably be arranged."

"What?" she asked, staring at him. "I couldn't possibly. Why… it's not even fair."

"I'll talk to Albus. You could go to Ministry one weekend and take them there. I'd take you myself." he offered. "Don't decide now, besides, we've been out here nearly an hour and I think a cup of tea could do us some good." He offered her his elbow and she slipped her hand through and they started the trek back to the castle.

"If I did, then I wouldn't be a student? I wouldn't have to keep up with my classes any longer?" she asked.

"It would seem redundant after you'd already passed the tests." he said.

"Mmm." she said, noncommittally but he could tell she was thinking about it. She expected him to lead her to the kitchens or to the staff room but instead they went down to the dungeons, through his classroom and into his private chambers. "You don't live upstairs with the other staff?" she asked, thinking of the row of portraits that held McGonagall's room.

"No." he said. "They always pop in on one another. It's too much like the dormitories themselves. I much prefer the solitude the dungeons provide. Have a seat." he said, motioning to a small table situated near the fire that was well roaring. She did and soon a full tea service as well as a few pieces of fruit and a platter of pastries appeared. He sat down with her, after removing their cloaks. He'd taken her cloak from her shoulders like a gentleman. He served her first and soon they were eating and drinking companionably. The walk had made her hungry.

"I like transfiguration." she said, causing him to look up at her. "But out of all the subjects I could teach, it's probably not the one I would choose."

"What would you choose?" he asked.

"Potions." she said immediately and he looked pleased. "Charms, perhaps. But I like the science of potions."

"I as well." he said. She set down her now empty tea cup.

"Well, thank you for breakfast. I had a nice morning." she said.

"You don't have to go." he said, eyeing her fidget in her chair. "You can, of course, but you don't have to." she stilled and looked at him.

"I'm sorry, but who are you? I don't understand what's happening. You hate me! You hate my friends! I'm a know-it-all in a house that you despise and yet here we are having breakfast in your personal chambers and you're asking me to stay and you're so kind and helpful and when we hugged the other night I never wanted to let go and I don't know what that means." she said, her voice rising and falling in between yelling and whispering at him. She put her hand on her forehead and sighed. "I don't know what's happening anymore."

"You're right. Your reaction is wholly fair." he said, looking right into her eyes which were glistening with confusion and tears – an expression that he rarely saw on her intelligent face. "I'm so sorry I ever had to make you believe that I hated you. How could I play favorites with a house like yours when I was under the watch of the Dark Lord so intensely? I couldn't like you but I have always, since the first day when you answered every question correctly and have yet to stop. You're a breath of fresh air to this school, Hermione, and you've just recently risen to a position where I don't have to lie anymore." he explained, leaning across the table and taking her cold hand into his own.

"Is that true?" she asked. "You don't… you never hated me?"

"Merlin, no. I like you too much as it is." he said. He looked away from her at this and sat back guiltily. She understood what he meant. He was attracted to her as well. She couldn't complain about that as she felt the same about him and now he was treating her as an equal and even speeding up her graduation to make her a peer instead of a subordinate. Selfish, perhaps, but she wanted it too.

"I like you, too." she whispered, reattaching her hand to his. "I'll stay," He cleared his throat but looked pleased.

"Excellent." he said. "What does the head girl usually do on her Saturdays?" he asked.

"Well, this is the first free Saturday I've had in… months." Hermione admitted. "I was going to go to the library and then I was going to visit Professor McGonagall in the afternoon." She said. "Other then that, nothing specific. Harry and Ron are usually in Qudditch practice all weekend."

"Yes, their victories over the Slytherin team are becoming quite a nuisance." he growled. "Regardless… Would you like to see my personal library?"

"Yes." she said, immediately. "Yes, I would." she said and he stood and she followed him through a previously closed door. She tried not to blush when they entered his bedroom. He had a four poster bed – she just assumed at this point all the beds in the castle were basically the same – with a thick black comforter that looked feather soft and green sheets that glistened like satin in the candle light from the sconces. She'd not been awake long but suddenly all she wanted to do was to crawl into that bed with her potions professor and sleep curled into the shape of his body. Steeling herself she tore her gaze away from the bed and looked around the rest of the room. It was tidy – of course it would be – and held no pictures or knickknacks. He was perusing the row of bookshelves and she was immediately at home in the room. The library was filled with old, rare books on any and every subject and she reached out to run her fingertips over their spines lightly. He pulled a tome out and handed it to her.

"You'll find this interesting." he commented and started to undo the several buttons on his outer frock coat. Soon he was in just his black slacks and white shirt, his hair hanging in his face as he chose a book for himself. He looked so comfortable here in his own space and so attractive and youthful without his stern expression and stern outfit. She regretted having to wait seven years to see this side of him and now the year was almost over and she would probably have to leave before she got to know him as well as she wanted to.

"If you were serious about taking the NEWTs early and staying on... I'd like to try." she said, and he looked up from the book he had pulled out.

"I'll talk to Albus." he assured her and stood up with the book. "What do you think of that?" he asked, motioning to the book she hadn't yet glanced at. She perched on the edge of his mattress, rather boldly she thought, and looked at it. It was an ancient potions text full of recipes that were probably not even in the restricted section. She felt the mattress shift as he sat next to her, nearly touching her.

"It's great." she said. "I'd probably never get the chance to read it any other way." She could smell the tea on his breath, the way his skin smelled, his hair and all of it was making her a little dizzy. They should have never admitted they had feelings for one another. It wasn't like he confessed that he loved her or anything yet she couldn't look up and she couldn't move.

"Hermione." he said, softly. "What's wrong?"

"I can't look at you." she said with a tone of practicality. "If I look at you, I think I might kiss you."

"Ah, I see." he said. "I often feel that way when you are around."

"I am a student and you're a professor and I shouldn't even be here." she whispered. "When did this happen?" He didn't answer and she wouldn't look up. When she felt his fingers on the bottom of her chin, she closed her eyes and let him tilt her face towards his. Slowly, his mouth descended and his lips grazed her. Not a kiss, per se, but contact all the same. He pulled back and she opened her eyes. He was watching her expectantly. As if to say, 'See? The world did not end.' The world was just waking up above them. She knew now that the bathrooms would be filled with students showering and brushing their teeth. The great hall was slowly filling with staff and children. The first years had finally gotten the hang of things just in time for exams and Harry and Ron were probably already on their brooms chasing bewitched balls and clapping each other on the backs. And where was she now? In the depths of the castle with a man that most people thought had cloven hooves instead of feet. There she was, on her knees with her hands pushing his shoulders back against the mattress. There she was, with her knees on either side of his waist and her mouth pressed hotly to his. There they were with their tongues in each other's mouth and she was pulling her black sweater over her head and he was undoing the buttons to his shirt manually because he'd left his wand in the other room. There she was, underneath her potions professor writhing and moaning with him deep inside of her, panting and undulating. He was gasping her name and she was digging her nails into the skin of his pale, smooth back. There they were, the only people in the dungeons on a Saturday, screaming out their climaxes and collapsing, spent.

She woke up on satin sheets with a man wrapped around her, completely disoriented. Where the hell was she? And then she remembered and rolled over to face him. He was still asleep, his hair fanned out around him. She wondered if he would wake up and be disgusted. Her hair had come out of its braid and was now wild and everywhere. The curls mingled with his black tresses on the pillow. She slid out of the bed and padded silently, naked, to the bathroom and shut the door. Her thighs were sticky and she avoided looking into the mirror as she tore of a strip of toilet paper to wipe herself clean. She'd lost her virginity to a muggle boy who'd lived down the street when home last summer. She hadn't wanted to come to her last year still a virgin. It was a silly notion but she was tired of Lavender knowing more about something then she did. But he'd been a muggle and so they'd used a condom and it was much less of a mess. Professor Snape – Severus now – had whispered a contraceptive charm before hand (after she had summoned his wand with her own, too embarrassed at the moment to learn the charm herself) and the feeling of his skin right inside hers was so much better than the chaffing of latex, mess or none. She relieved herself and went to the sink to wash her hands. She glanced up into the mirror and was surprised at her reflection. Her hair was the same but her eyes looked heavy and her cheeks were still rosy from the exertion. She could see love bites forming on her neck and chest and she seemed to remember one on the inside of her thigh. The memory of it made her blush even more fiercely. The muggle boy certainly hadn't done _that _to her. She looked like a woman, even to herself now. She was eighteen and that was well over the legal age in the wizarding world. She hoped he wouldn't regret what they had done.

He was awake when she came out of the loo.

"Everything okay?" he asked, looking just as worried as she felt.

"Yes, I was just a bit sticky." she said, shyly. She was still completely nude and he was watching her unabashedly. She leaned over to slip her panties back on and then noticed the rip down the side. He'd literally torn them off of her. She held them up to him and he laughed. It made him look all the more handsome and she abandoned the panties and the idea of leaving and crawled back into bed and into his arms.

"Sorry about your knickers, love." he said, pressing his lips into her neck and nipping at the skin.

"Don't you dare bite down, I have enough of those marks and I was never very good at casting glamours." she admonished. He stopped biting and licked at the spot instead, soothing the light red mark with his tongue. She tried to concentrate. "Professor,"

"Honestly, Hermione if you can't assume that you can call me Severus after I've thoroughly shagged you then when can you?" She shivered a bit.

"Severus, what do we do now?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose I could go again," he said, flipping her over so that she was on her back and attacking her left breast with renewed vigor. It was some time before she could explain that another go wasn't what she meant. She lay lazily against him while he ran his fingers through her tangled hair, kissing her every so often. "What did you really mean?" he asked, pulling her more tightly against him.

"I mean that we can't exactly tell anyone about this. And even if I do graduate early…" she trailed off, not wanting to imply that there would be a time after this or a relationship later on. She wasn't so naïve that she had no concept of a fling. She wanted more with him, of course but if he didn't then she could accept that.

"We won't tell a soul for now." he said. "As much as I hate children, I don't intend to lose my job and the last thing I want is for you to be in trouble."

"For now?" she asked. "You want to see me again?"

"Hermione, love, I never want to let you out of my sight again." he said. She kissed his cheek.

"I've got to go see Professor McGonagall. She's expecting me in 20 minutes and I'm never late." she said, crawling over him and out of the bed, pulling on her jeans without underwear and fastening her bra while searching for her shirt. She charmed her hair back into its braid with her wand but it didn't look quite so sleek. All in all, she looked rumpled. "Hopefully she isn't wearing her glasses." she muttered and gathered her things and bid him goodbye.

Something made her avoid him for the next week. She assumed he was avoiding her as well because she kept catching glances of his robes whipping around corners in the hallways. She kept smelling his unique scent – as if he'd been in the room just moments before she arrived. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him. She found herself aching for his calming presence (the irony!) but there was just no legitimate way to go see him. She didn't have him in class and they rarely occupied the same parts of the castle at the same time. When she did see him it was in the staff room. McGonagall's desk was situated on the other side of the room from Snape's and with the exams coming, there was more homework assigned and with more homework came more to grade which made the staff room a very popular place when before it'd had usually been empty. The staff welcomed her for the most part – they at least left her alone; too busy with their own work to be bothered by a student. Hermione was studious as she ever was but found herself watching him. More often than not, their eyes met and he smiled quickly to let her know that he was thinking about her, too. Just the sight of him set her body aflame. She hoped no one saw her blushing.

One Friday evening during dinner, the headmaster walked merrily down to the Gryffindor table and tapped Hermione's shoulder. She looked at him with a calm exterior but inside she could feel the slow churn of panic upsetting her recently consumed dinner. Did Snape tell? Did he know? Did the smell of sex overpower the many showers she'd had in the last week? Was it that obvious? She'd always been a bad liar… She realized that he was speaking to her, asking her to step outside with him. He was moving her away from the crowd so no one would see if she caused a scene. Oh God, oh God, she was going to be expelled from a school she didn't even really attend. She would lose her precious and precarious position as teacher before she'd left her teen years. She looked at him, the fear evident on her face and it slowly dawned on her that he didn't look angry.

"I've arranged it all, Miss Granger. Tomorrow morning you will leave Hogwarts with professor Snape and go to the Ministry of Magic." Her mouth fell open. He did know. This was it. She was expelled and he was fired and they had to go stand trial at the ministry and in 24 hours she'd be in a cell in Azkaban, never too see the light of day again. She opened her mouth to… what? Apologize? Protest? Admit her sins? Was Dumbledore still talking? She should have been listening, she admonished herself; these last words might be her salvation from the worst prison in Great Britain. "…I didn't want you to over study. Exhaustion is the worst thing one can bring to exams."

"Excuse me?" She said her voice uncharacteristically high. "Exams?"

"Your NEWTs tomorrow. Severus told me you would prefer to just get them out of the way, was he mistaken?" Dumbledore asked looking slightly put out now.

"You want me to take my NEWTs tomorrow." she sighed. "Yes of course… TOMORROW?" she screeched. "I have to study!" She left the headmaster in her wake as she bolted to the library. He looked after her, shaking his head.

"She didn't listen to a word I said." he said. Severus who'd left the staff table to stand in a shadow and eavesdrop on the situation now stepped into the light (ever the Slytherin) and shrugged his shoulders.

"Even if she had, wild horses couldn't drag her away from those precious books." he commented, dryly.

"I expected too much of her." Dumbledore said wistfully. "We should have done this months ago." Snape let his silence act as agreement. "Take care of her. You'll probably be watched."

"I would never let anything happen to her." he said. "Trust me."

"I do. Implicitly." Albus said, and went back in to finish his dessert. Snape ignored the pang of guilt the headmaster's trust induced and went to prepare for their weekend outing.


	2. two

The morning of her NEWTs she was up well before the sun, pulling on her freshly cleaned and pressed school uniform. Her knee socks were even, her skirt pleated perfectly and her school robes hung neatly on her curvy frame. She wanted to be the model Hogwarts student for the Ministry officials and she wanted to represent Hogwarts with pride. She was also immensely nervous about spending the day in London with Severus. She'd not had a moment alone with him since their first time and she was beginning to doubt his intentions. Did it mean nothing to him? She wished it had meant nothing to her but she knew it was a lie. She adored him and she missed the way he had made her body sing. 

She didn't really need to bring anything with her save her wand, but she wanted to be prepared for anything. She put a few quills and some ink in her bag as well as a few spare rolls of parchment and two books in case she was made to wait at all. She also slipped her time turner around her neck. It seemed to be just as much a part of her uniform as her Gryffindor tie these days. Feeling prepared, she stepped out of her room and went to the Great Hall where she was to meet Severus.

She was on time exactly but he was, of course, already waiting for her. He smiled a bit when he saw her approaching and she relaxed. He was happy to see her. She walked up to him and he laid a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Hello, Hermione." he said. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." she said. "Thank you for accompanying me."

"I've been looking forward to it. Your tests start as soon as we arrive and should continue for most of the day." he explained. She'd heard all of this before but it was a comfort just to hear his voice all the same. He looked as he always did – black robes and highly polished boots and that was comforting too. "We'll probably miss dinner, so I thought perhaps we could eat in the city before we return."

"I think I should like that… If I'm still alive by then, that is." she said. Her nerves were beginning to assert themselves in earnest now.

"I wouldn't worry. You know everything you need." he said. "Come along now, we have to hurry." he said. They were going to apparate from the gates of Hogwarts into the apparition room of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione had been rather proud to be the first of her year to learn to apparate correctly and the first to pass the test. At the gates, he leaned down at placed a kiss on her lips. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. The castle was now out of sight, yet they were still miles from town. They were actually, for a few moments, alone and he was going to take advantage of it. He nudged her mouth open and slid his tongue inside, pulling her body flush against his. This, this was what she'd been waiting for.

"Oh, Severus." she said, pulling back to look at him. "I was afraid…"

"If I could have been with you everyday I would have." he said.

"I know." she said. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" He nodded, kissed her cheek one last time and then they disapparated with a pop. Severus had held her hand so she didn't accidentally wind up in the wrong place. Apparating always made her a bit dizzy, a little disoriented, but Severus didn't give her time to recover before he yanked his hand away and started briskly walking away with a snarled, "Follow me." She understood that in this place he was a put upon professor taking a know-it-all impatience student to take exams early. He was not her lover. She followed trying not to believe the practiced persona of hate he had slipped into. She was lead through a maze of rooms and people and flying memos trying to soak it all and still focus on the task ahead of her. They stopped to have their wands inspected. She saw a few people she recognized from the order but did not acknowledge them as they did not to her. Why would they know her? Finally, Snape slowed and knocked on a door. It opened and inside was a large room with a long table. There were seven witches and wizards seated at the table who watched her come in. A few had soft smiles on their faces but two looked impatient and unpleasant.

"State your name." One of the wizards said. Snape stepped to the side and sat in a chair, content to watch with a scowl.

"Hermione Granger." She said her voice confident. She could do this. She hadn't thought Snape would stay and she was glad he did.

"Do you swear you are taking these exams of your own free will with now outside help or inside information?" the same dour man said.

"I swear." she said. He pushed a magical contract towards her and she picked up a quill and signed her name. The contract glowed for a moment and the curled up and sealed its self with a wax seal bearing the Ministry Crest. The witch to his right took the scroll and placed it an out box where it disappeared. Hermione found this all fascinating. She was an expert in most magical fields but it was the every day tasks that still interested her because she'd grown up muggle, after all.

"You will take eight exams: Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Arithmancy, and Defense against the Dark Arts. Each test will be one hour in length with the exception of potions which will be 75 minutes to allow for brewing. You will have a 10 minute break between each exam, 30 minutes for lunch. A different wizard will proctor each exam. Do you have any questions?" he asked, dryly. Overwhelmed as she was, she shook her head. "Excellent. Which exam would you prefer to start with, Miss Granger?"

"Potions, I suppose." she said, wanting to get the longest one out of the way.

"Very well then." this was Snape who stood and walked to a table in front of her where a cauldron had appeared. "I shall be in charge of this exam." She'd been wondering why there were only seven wizards and eight exams. She was relieved and scared all at once. She knew that Severus would not be unfair to her but would be as hard on her as any other student. She nodded.

"I'm ready." She assured the panel. The potion he assigned her, she saw with horror, was one she'd never brewed before. They'd brewed it in class after she'd stopped attending. Of course she'd read the notes but she lacked the actual experience! She forced herself to calm down. Brewing was brewing and panic had no place in a potions lab. In front of her were all her ingredients measured out. All she had to do was cut them or pulverize them correctly and remember what order they went into and at what time in the brewing process. It seemed like a lot but she did have a somewhat photographic memory. She surveyed the ingredients. Mandrake root went into the base of water first and always was cut into fine slivers. She set about doing that. The first three ingredients went in together and then there was a… a ten minute pause. The ingredients needed to seep before the… shoot, what was it? The dragon scales! It had to seep before the dragon scales went in. Then it all flooded back, the precise type font of the notes from the charmed quill in emerald green ink. She remembered. She would be fine.

By lunch she was already exhausted. Snape had neither praised nor condemned her potion when she'd handed him the final product in a sealed flask. He mere pocketed it and sat back down. She was allowed to sit quietly for ten minutes while the next test, care of magical creatures, was prepared. And so it went. They all filed out and left her alone for her lunch, even Snape. They provided her with a sandwich and a bowl of soup and a mug of Pumpkin juice. It was obviously government food – a concept that didn't change with either world. She ate it without complaint for she'd skipped breakfast and was famished. She did, however, appreciate Hogwarts food just a bit more. She'd come to the school a knobby eleven year old who'd always forgotten to eat in lieu of homework or reading. Regular meals had done her a world of good. Not that her parents hadn't fed her but they weren't unlike her daughter. The quest for knowledge often did not involve nutritious meals.

She'd saved transfiguration for last. She'd figured by the end of the day she'd be exhausted (the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests were aptly named) and she wanted to be able to know the subject backwards and forwards. The dour wizard from the morning was to proctor the exam. Before it started, he looked over the rim of his square spectacles at her.

"Professor Snape informs me you've been teaching this subject at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." she said. She wanted to add it was the reason she was taking these bloody awful exams early in the first place but she kept her mouth closed.

"That's highly unorthodox, don't you believe?" he asked.

"Perhaps, but I have full faith in Headmaster Dumbledore." she said, which was the truth.

"Very well," the man said, grumbled really, and then, an hour later, she was done and Snape was quickly ushering he out of the exam room. She didn't know what to say. She felt a little shell-shocked. The dour wizard had pronounced her done and then all the wizards had stood and Snape was pushing her by her shoulders out of the room. The halls of the ministry were mostly empty – it was a weekend and getting late – and Snape said nothing until they were in the apparition room.

"Would you rather return to the castle or continue with our meal plans?" he asked, looking at her.

"I… I'm not… I don't…" she tried to speak but was so tired. She was hungry, too and he was looking at her with an almost amused expression.

"Dare I say you're speechless? An event I never dreamed would occur." he said. "I shall try to simplify the question for you. Food or sleep?"

"Food." she said, still having enough wits to glare at him. He took her hand again.

"Diagon Alley." he told her and she nodded. They disapparated.

She quite expected him to lead them to the Leaky Cauldron but he didn't. "Take off your school robes." he said, undoing his outer robes so he was left in his slacks and vest. She obliged.

"You want to eat in Muggle London?" she asked.

"I thought we would be less noticed there." he said. He took her robes and draped them casually over one arm. They were just fabric, nothing remotely interesting or peculiar that way. They moved out of the alley and into the near summer nightlife of London. She felt at home, oddly, among non-wizarding people even with Severus at her side. "I figured we'd just stumble upon something." he admitted.

"On a Saturday night? Severus." she reprimanded lightly, revitalized by the change in scenery. "There's a nice Italian restaurant around the corner. My parents and I usually eat there after they pick me up from the express." she explained. She led the way, Severus keeping his hand on her back as not to lose her. "You have muggle money, don't you?" she asked, as an after thought. "All I have is wizard."

"I thought ahead, Miss Granger, yes." he said, slipping into Professor Mode at the insult to his intelligence.

"Sorry." she said, though she wasn't, really. He looked like he knew. They entered the restaurant and were told by an acne faced boy it would be about fifteen minutes. Severus looked a little miffed at the waiting.

"Why can't they just expand the restaurant – add more tables?" he asked. She looked at him.

"Muggles wait." she said, pointing to a stone bench just outside the door. He sat down. It was a beautiful London evening. It was nearly June and spring was in full force. There were flowers everywhere and the air smelled clean and sweet. She wasn't even cold without her school robes which Severus had laid across the stone bench before she sat so her bare thighs wouldn't be cold against the porous stone. She closed her eyes against the glare of the setting sun. She'd spent a summer in the states once, with her mother's sister and a cousin that'd been about her age. It was a few years before Hogwarts and she'd liked America except for how quickly it got dark. Summer twilights were supposed to linger for hours – they always had. Nine o'clock was not dark at home and she'd missed the way the sun set always lulled her to sleep. Now, she let what was left of the sun linger on her skin while she waited for their name to be called.

"You did very well today." His soft voice lulled her out of her nostalgic reverie.

"I thought I was weak in magical creatures and I'd never brewed your potion before and my star charts were sloppy at best." she said.

"Your potion was fine." he said. This was high praise from him. She moved her hand so that their fingers brushed slightly. Even in a society where no one knew he was her professor, she was still a teenage girl in a school uniform and he was still a man pushing forty. They would never be just right together. She pushed the thought away. "Though you were right about Magical Creatures. Not your strongest suit."

"I love Hagrid but…" she shook her head. "Did they tell you when the results will come in?"

"Tomorrow morning." he said and her eyes snapped open.

"So soon?" she asked. "It takes all summer, usually."

"Only one to grade." he said and she nodded.

"Then what will happen?" she asked.

"I suggest you demand that Albus start paying you for your services." he said and she laughed.

"I just might do that." she said, and her tinkling laughter made him smile as well. Hermione's name was called over the speaker (she'd explained that Severus wasn't a normal muggle name) and they were led to a small table where they enjoyed a small meal and Hermione spent the better part of the evening slipping her foot out of her shoe and running her toes up and down his leg.

Soon enough, though, it was time to return to the school. They made their way sullenly back to Diagon Alley. "I wish we could stay away for a while. My break from school wasn't very relaxing." she said, as he tapped his wand across the pattern of bricks that opened the portal back to the wizarding world.

"Perhaps in the summer we can go away." he said. She looked at him.

"Will you still be around in the summer?" she asked, though she didn't mean him specifically, but him wanting to be part of her life.

"Will you?" he countered. "I think we need to have a real discussion about this before we return." he said. They'd flirted all through dinner but now, outside of the cover of the muggle world, reality was reasserting itself. He steered her away from their original destination, the Leaky Cauldron, and too a small park she'd not noticed before, just behind Gringott's. There was a playground as well as a patch of grass but it was late and the park was mostly deserted. They sat down on a bench. "Try to remain impassive." he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean this can't look like a lover's quarrel." he said.

"Are we going to have a row?" she asked, angry and sad at once. Fighting with professor Snape was nothing new, but they'd yet to really have it out since becoming, as he said, lovers.

"I want you to know that I do not routinely sleep with my students." he said.

"Nor I with my professors." she said.

"What I mean is… I don't routinely sleep with anyone, Hermione. You're the first one in… years, I'd say, that I've wanted anything to do with." She could see what he was trying to do. He was trying to tell her that she was important to him in his own garbled way. "I would like for that feeling to continue."

She wanted to reach out and hug him but she knew she couldn't so she would have to choose her words wisely. Words, she knew, were the most powerful tool she had. She'd always been a good writer but generally set fiction aside for academia. Now, she wanted to speak poetry to him but she knew that life rarely turned out like poetry.

"Severus, I'm not going anywhere. Going away, I've learned, in this world isn't like going away in the muggle world. It takes time to travel when you're a muggle. There is a whole subculture of humor pertaining only to long, family car rides." she said. He looked at her blankly. "See? You have no idea what I'm even talking about. What I mean is, anywhere I go I can always floo or apparate back to you at the end of the night."

"No one will ever accept you and me together." he said, drearily.

"I think you ought to give people more credit." she said. He said nothing, but looked at her almost fondly in his own way. "So, Professor, did we just decide to try and make a go of it? To tell all obstacles to piss off and start an actual relationship?" she said in a teasing tone.

"Language, Miss Granger." he said, standing.

"Oh, bugger off you wanker." she said merrily and they apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts.

He saw her to her rooms and bid her a pleasant good night. Harry and Ron, who'd been waiting for her outside the portrait of the ballerina, stared after him with open jaws.

"That was… did Snape actually say something nice?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione who wished they'd just go away so she could take a bath and go to sleep (or at least toss and turn in peace worrying about her impending exam scores).

"Snape was most companionable today." Hermione said, climbing through her portrait. They followed, uninvited. She shucked off her robes and found a hair elastic to tie up her hair with into a knot on the top of her head.

"I doubt that." Ron said, snorting.

"I don't want to argue about this." she snapped. "And my horrifying exams were fine, thank you for asking." she said.

"Oy, sorry Hermione." Harry said, elbowing Ron who was about to snap something back. They'd never gotten over their constant bickering. "When do you find out results?"

"In the morning." she said.

"Then you won't be a student anymore?" Ron asked, absentmindedly rubbing his ribs. "That will be strange."

"I've not been to classes in months." she reminded him, undoing her tie and kicking off her shoes and socks. "Not to mention teaching your class and grading your papers. You do a lot less well when I don't help." she said.

"You're telling us." Harry said. "I think what Ron meant was… you'll be a full professor. You'll probably not even sit with us at meals or come in our common room or…" He faded off. "You were always years ahead of us anyway." He sounded resigned and neither Ron nor Hermione had a response. Hermione had always been more mature but Harry was ahead as well. Ron… well Ron was taller then the both of them, at least.

"I don't know what's going to happen." she said and it was the truth. Just a few days ago she'd had no idea she'd be taking her exams and now here she was finished with those and waiting impatiently in the limbo of her displacement. Her affair with Severus was just another straw placed precariously on the camel's back. She was suddenly too exhausted for words. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." she said, pointing at the door. They nodded and slipped out of her presence. She finished stripping and took a quick shower instead of the hot bath she'd planned. She dried her hair with a charm, slipped on her summer nightgown, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

She woke up early. It was Sunday so she once again had no classes to teach. Part of her wanted to go find Dumbledore right now and demand to know what he planned to do with her but the logical side knew nothing would change until her scores arrived. She dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt – she felt like being comfortable in her endless wait – and sat in her sitting room trying to read until it was time for breakfast and the owl post. She was one of the first in the Great Hall and she sat nervously at one of the end seats of the Gryffindor table; the end closest to the long staff table. She wanted answers as soon as she received her marks, even if that meant leaning over Dumbledore's breakfast to get them. Slowly, students came in and sat down. She wasn't hungry in the slightest but piled her plate with food when it appeared in front of her. Harry and Ron knew better than to talk to her when she was that fidgety and when her mouth was set in such a thin, straight line.

Most of the school didn't know that Hermione – Professor H as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had taken to calling her in jest and out of respect – had taken her tests and was waiting impatiently for the results. She glanced up to the staff table. Dumbledore was enjoying his pile of fluffy eggs with a somewhat alarming vigor for a man of his stature. Snape who rarely came to breakfast (especially on Sundays) was not there. This frustrated her for some reason.

Then it was there. The screech of owls. She promptly climbed up on to the bench and leapt up to grab the envelope the moment it left the barn owl's talons. People where watching her make a spectacle of herself but she cared little. She tore open the ministry envelope and read the results standing with her foot half on Neville's toast.

"Well, girl, don't make us wait." Dumbledore called gaily out into the hushed murmur that the Great Hall had become. "Read it out!"

"Potions: 99. Transfiguration: 100. Charms: 100. History of Magic: 98. Care of Magical Creatures: 96. Astronomy: 100. Arithmancy: 100. Defense against the Dark Arts: 100." she read out into the now silent hall. She looked up in awe at the head table who was staring at her with mouths full of food half open. And then Harry was clapping and the staff was clapping and the Gryffindors were screaming and stomping their feet and then the whole school – save a few surly Slytherins – were applauding and watching her with envy.

"Well done." Dumbledore was yelling. "Run and tell Minerva. Go on!" he said, pointing out of the hall and she laughed and nodded and left the clamor with her results in her hot little hand. She'd done amazingly well. To score perfect scores on five out of eight was unheard of and her lowest score was a 96. She couldn't think straight. She nearly screamed "Poinsettia" and calmed herself before she went into McGonagall's room. The old lady was in bed with Severus at her side and they were talking quietly but stopped when they saw Hermione standing there grinning stupidly flushed and sweating from running up several flights of stairs.

"They came." she said, grinning. Snape stood and snatched the results from her hand and read them over quickly.

"My heavens." he said. "Hermione, this is…" there were not words. "Minerva." he said and handed her the now rather rumpled test results.

"Miss Granger this is… these are… she beat YOU, Severus!" McGonagall said laughing. "By three points!"

Severus reached for Hermione and picked her up and spun her around a few times before crushing her into a hug, Minerva be damned. She couldn't help but laugh as the room spun; the only constant being Snape's genuinely happy face just centimeters away from hers. Finally, he set her down and she hung onto his arm for a moment while she righted herself. McGonagall watched without expression but wisely said nothing.

"You can do whatever you want." he said, looking down at her. "With these scores you could rule the world."

"One step at a time now." she said. "What happens next?"

"You finish the year." McGonagall said.

"I don't have to continue classes?" she asked.

"No." McGonagall said. "I should think not. Professor Snape and I were just discussing your options." she admitted. "I've decided not to return to Hogwarts and I will move out of the castle as soon as I am able." The happy mood faltered a bit.

"I'll miss you very much." Hermione said and the elderly woman smiled at her.

"And I, you." she said. "Though I cannot speak for Headmaster Dumbledore, I assume you can stay on here for at least next term while you decide what you want to do." Hermione nodded, glancing coyly at Snape.

"I would like that." she said.

The rest of term – only four weeks before the rest of the students took NEWTs and end of year exams – flew by quickly with the lightened work load. She took a great joy in teaching that she hadn't before with all the stress. She thought she might have to proctor the exams she herself had just passed but none of the Hogwarts did in fear of favoritism. She spent the week of NEWTs down in the dungeons with Severus, sharing meals and catching up on lost time.

The first day they'd stayed apart, still unsure of the rules. But when he didn't go to dinner, she wandered down to find him and he was in his office eating biscuits and drinking lukewarm tea.

"I brought you a plate." she said, shyly, knocking on the slightly ajar office door. He was grading, of course, something she needed to finish but was waiting until the morning when everyone was busy. He looked up.

"How thoughtful." he said, motioning her inside. "Put a warming charm on it, perhaps I'll eat it later."

"All right. I just wanted to check on you." she said, setting the plate down and heading for the door, disappointed.

"Stay." he said and she paused. "I don't have to… we could go…" he said, glancing towards the door the led to his chambers.

"Okay." she said. Because, Merlin, they had been so good. They had been polite and respectful of personal space even when alone. Now she'd passed her tests that made her of age in any sense of the word. In fact, she'd sat at the staff table tonight for the first time even though the seat next to her had been conspicuously empty. The food was forgotten. The grading ceased to exist. He was already pulling off her clothes before he'd locked all the doors and pushed her down onto the sofa. He wove her hands into his hair and shuddered lightly as he caught her neck in his teeth and sucked slowly. She would have a mark there. She would have several marks. He loved to mark her – as if to leave physical evidence of his presence there.

"You're mine." he growled into her neck. She whimpered and tore at his clothes. He whispered a spell and suddenly the clothes were gone and she thought vaguely that she would have to learn that spell but then he was there between her legs and she was arching up from the cool leather of the couch and he was above her bobbing up and down and when she came she saw colors that didn't have any names.


	3. three

It didn't last. It couldn't. By Thursday morning, Hermione was frantically waiting for the other shoe to drop. To pass with such good scores and to have Severus without being caught? She was having her cake and eating it too. If Snape noticed her nerves, he said nothing. He was enjoying their stolen week together just as much she was. She'd been hiding, that much was obvious. She hid in Snape's chambers – refusing to go to meals or even sleep in her own bed. It was risky to spend the night with him but worth it. 

She liked the way he buried his nose into her shoulder while he slept; how he curled is long frame around her instead of her trying to fit against him. He always had an arm or a leg draped over her and he muttered her name in his dreams. He was comfortable having her in his space. So, during the day, she feigned headaches and laid in his bed and read books, willing the summer to assert itself properly. She'd been sending the obligatory owls to her parents since this whole ordeal begun (leaving out Snape, of course) and so they were not surprised when she sent them a letter telling them she would not return home for the entiresummer but promised them a week or two somewhere in the middle. The students would leave, boarding the train gleeful for a vacation. Some would be back in the fall. Harry and Ron, however, wouldn't be back. This made her sad but she pushed the feelings down.

Severus had gone to town for the day on Friday morning. It was the last day of exams and in the morning was graduation for the seventh years. She would walk across the stage with her classmates, it was decided. Tonight, after dinner she would have to brave the rest of the castle to go to graduation practice. She felt a little sad her parents couldn't come to the ceremony but they were just so muggle… everyone agreed it was easiest not to invite the parents of the muggle born. But the Weasleys would be there and they were like family to her. And Severus would be there, watching her from the staff seating. Then the students would leave and she'd be officially a member of the staff. She would move her things from the Head Girl room to the staff quarters – to McGonagall's quarters as soon as she was out of them and back to her family home in Aberdeen. She would watch the first years be sorted from the staff table and she would have to grin and bear Ginny Weasley calling her Professor properly.

She was musing on this when the warm orange flames in the fire place sparked green and Dumbledore's head appeared in the flames. There was no where to hide.

"Severus, there's been an accident in the Slytherin common room…" They stared at each other. Dumbledore just head and her sitting cross legged on Snape's bed in nothing but a pair of knickers and a tank top. "Miss Granger?"

"Headmaster." she said, quietly. "Professor Snape is out this morning."

"I see. Perhaps you ought to come to my office once you're decent?" he asked.

"Of course." she said, fighting the urge to pull the comforter over her. His head popped sternly from the fireplace and she didn't move. She stared at the walls and then the horrid condition her cuticles were in. She bit at them absentmindedly and had a sip of tea. She closed the book she was reading and crawled out of bed to stand in the middle of the chilled room. She burst into tears.

It was over! She would lose Severus, her degree from Hogwarts, and her teaching position. Forcing herself to calm down, she wiped her eyes and started putting on her clothes. She didn't want to keep the headmaster waiting but she found he was not in his office. She had to wait outside the Gargoyle for almost 20 minutes pacing and thinking of scenarios – each more horrid than the last. She was imagining herself at the mercy of dementors at Azkaban when he finally showed up.

"Sorry to keep you, I had to deal with the student myself since Severus was absent." he said, ushering her onto the stairs which recognized him without a password. Into the office they rose. Neither spoke while he sat behind his expansive desk and she declined to take a seat at all. "Well." he said finally. "Imagine my surprise."

"Headmaster, I know there is no excuse." she said, hanging her head. "I could try to come up with something but I'm a dreadful liar."

"I appreciate honesty, Miss Granger. Perhaps this is my fault." he offered her a dish of candy and she shook her head. She already felt as if she might vomit. "I just kept handing you privilege after privilege. You should have never had fulfill Minerva's role as educator before you'd finished an education of your own. You were just so good at it."

"I adore teaching, I do. I've never been happier." she said. "I understand if you cannot continue to… I understand if I can't…" she didn't know how to say it. "I'll pack my things."

"Was it Severus?" he asked.

"What?" She asked, surprised.

"Did he force you in any way?"

"Absolutely not." she said, suddenly angry at the accusations to his character. "I would have thought you of all people would know his true colors. I resent the accusation." she said, hotly.

"And I find it unfortunate that I had to ask," he said. "I was just checking."

"Severus is a good man." she said. "I know that it… We broke rules, we knew that going in. I expect you to take away the job but please don't punish him. He's actually happy and relaxed for the first time in… in ever, I believe." she shrugged.

"I know he is a good man. This is not the first time in the history of the world, of schools, of this school even, that this has happened Miss Granger. I just never thought I would have to watch Severus." he sighed, shaking his head. "Or you. You both are so much the same."

"You can take my job. You can take my diploma – I don't need it. I have job offers coming in daily with my scores. I also have faith that Severus will take my side in this matter but if he doesn't, if you expel me or fire me or whatever and he denies any association, I still won't regret being with him." she said, defiantly.

"No one is being expelled. I'd like to talk to Severus before I make any decisions. When you see him, tell him to come to my office, would you?" he asked, tiredly.

"That's it?" she asked.

"For now." he said. "Try to stay out of trouble on the way to your dorm if you can help it."

"Yes, sir." she said and left the office in a huff. She'd never been so forthright with the headmaster – nearly rude – but she no longer felt like a child and no one at the castle treated her as a child anymore and she didn't appreciate Dumbledore back tracking now. She was to graduate in the morning… she couldn't have kept the secret for 24 more hours? She was disgusted with herself. She climbed through her portrait who looked at her as if Hermione had abandoned her and opened grudgingly. She surveyed the room – just as she'd left it. The bed made and her clothes hung neatly in the closet. Whether she was moving rooms or moving out she'd need to pack so she started taking her clothes off the hangers and folding them. It took her a long time to realize she'd started crying again.

She went to dinner. She'd been sitting at the staff table but didn't think she belonged there at the moment and so she sat down next to Ron and Harry who looked at her, pleased.

"Decided to grace us with your presence, eh Hermy?" Ron asked, a drumstick in each hand.

"I figured it was our last meal as students together." she said. "I wanted to share it with you guys." She willed herself to eat and listen to her friends fret over their NEWT scores. She did not want to look up at the staff table and see Dumbledore's untrusting gaze or to see her empty place or to see if Snape had come back yet and if so, did he know? She would be able to tell just by looking at him, she was certain. Finally, she could not stand it and turned her head. Dumbledore was deep into conversation with Professor Sinestra and Snape was sitting at the opposite end of the table, her empty seat effectively quarantining he him from the rest of the staff. He looked stiff and discolored. He wasn't eating or drinking or looking up. He knew. She suddenly felt dizzy.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked, reaching across the table to touch her arm. "Everything okay?"

"I think I just need some air." she said, standing abruptly and fleeing the Great Hall, her fellow Gryffindors staring after her. She burst out the doors on to the front lawns, gulping air. Why was she so scared? She knew why. She had feigned indifference to Dumbledore. She had pretended that she didn't care that he knew because silly rules and age differences wouldn't matter in the longer scheme of things. Snape wanted her and perhaps – she hoped – loved her and that would be the thing that made them rise above. Part of her didn't even have to pretend because she believed. Inside, Snape didn't look as if he believed. He looked as if he'd done something awful and there was no way to extract him self from the situation without pain. She realized at once that she was a fool. Dumbledore would probably let her graduate; it seemed a silly thing to take away. But she would not get to keep her job and he would. He would not take her side. She would be quietly swept under the rug. No one had to know. Nothing would change.

She sat abruptly on the grass and was there for a while until the doors opened to let a sliver of light out. Someone was coming to fetch her. She hoped it was not the headmaster or Snape. She hoped it was Voldemort coming to kill her. She wished she had a time turner that was powerful enough to go back to the beginning of the year so she could fix this mess. The one she wore around her neck was not more than a day and it was too late to fix anything. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione?" It was Harry and she realized that she'd missed him. She'd not spent time with him, really, since taking over transfiguration.

"Hi, Harry." she said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, carefully sitting next to her. The sun had just set and the world was that dusty grey color where everything blended – where the world lost its depth. Everything was flat if just for a moment until true darkness set it. She looked to the sky where the first few stars were peeking out. She made a fierce wish.

"I'm sorry I've been away." she said. "I thought our last year together would be fun… I thought we would actually be together." she said. "Harry I did something that may make you hate me."

"I doubt that. You could break my wand and I wouldn't hate you. You could purposefully make me lose the house cup quidditch game. You could marry professor Snape and I probably wouldn't… oh my god, Hermione, what's… your face… what did I say?" he asked.

"I'm having an affair with Snape." she gasped. "Since… since Christmas!" She buried her face in his shoulder, then. He held her and rubbed his hand along her spine.

"Well, that's unexpected but I did just say that I'd still like you and I do." he said. "And while shagging Snape would make me cry, somehow I think there's more."

"Dumbledore found out." Harry cringed.

"What did he say?"

"He's talking to Severus before he makes any decisions." she wailed.

"Hermione, you're the best witch to come to this school since… forever, I'd reckon. Dumbledore needs you too much to sack you." he said. "Let's go inside, go to the common room for the last time, play some exploding snap and just be children for a few hours more, how does that sound?"

"Oh Harry, I love you." she said, nodding. Together, they walked into the castle arm in arm, best friends until the end.

Severus, upon returning to the castle, was most perplexed to find not Hermione sitting on his couch in the sitting room, but Albus. He'd seen her at dinner but she'd not made eye contact with her once which he found strange. He'd eaten at the Three Broomsticks but came to dinner out of habit.

"Breaking and entering a new hobby of yours?" He asked, dryly, moving to pour them both a hard drink.

"Severus, you should have told me." he said, accepting the warm, amber liquid and taking a small sip. Albus only ever drank with Severus – he didn't like to lose control.

"Told you what, old man, I'm tired." he asked, sitting next to the elderly wizard and putting his highly polished boots up onto the coffee table where they reflected the fire light.

"About Hermione." he said and Snape's hand halted halfway to his mouth, the crystal glass suddenly to heavy and slipping from his grasp, spilling scotch across his lap. He swore and cleaned it up quickly, setting the glass down on the table where his feet had been with thump. In the morning, he would see the fracture through out the base of the expensive glass, so deep and minute that the glass would have to be throw away for even magic couldn't repair it wholly. "How did this happen?"

"You made it okay, don't you see?" Snape whispered, sullen like a child. "You put her on a pedestal, you made her accessible! You made her one of us. She was never like them; she was smarter and had better manners and she had the class of a Slytherin even if her blood kept her from my house."

"She was a student, your student, and technically she still is." he pointed out.

"For mere hours more." Snape argued. "She'd taken over Minerva's classes completely before we even, before I found her." he amended, thinking of that night in the tower. There was she hunched over the essays, he hair aglow from the candle light. How she hummed softly while she worked, songs he didn't know. She knew muggle music and he'd grown up on ancient wizard folk songs but she had a favorite tune to hum and to even think about the simple melody made him warm; made the smell of her leap from his memory, wherever he was.

"I don't know what to do about this. I cannot condone such blatant disregard for school policy from my head girl and a staff member but the extraordinary conditions allow for some leeway." Dumbledore shrugged. "I suppose if you answer this question, I'll be able to make a fair decision."

"Then ask." Snape said, hoping that he would keep his job and hoping she would get to start hers.

"Was it just sex or do you truly love her?" Dumbledore asked. Snape knew better then to lie and he knew better then to answer right away. He could not lie to himself – he was attracted to Hermione. She was different then any of the women he was expected to marry. She was not pureblood, not even half and half so her gene pool was much more expansive. Slytherins all tended to look more or less the same. Tall, pale skin – no matter dark or light hair. They had high cheek bones and slender noses. They were aristocrats and they intermarried to assure themselves that their status would never be taken away. Hermione, on the other hand, was so small compared to him. She barely reached his shoulders and she was not tall and lanky but all hips and breasts. She was voluptuous. Her hair was not thin and straight but thick and curly. She had big, chocolate eyes and pouting lips.

She also could hold the most stimulating conversations for hours. She could solve any problem he set before her. She could beat him in chess. She appreciated his humor and cracked jokes of her own. She was loyal to him and to her rotten friends. She was brave, even as obnoxious as bravery could be. She was gentle with him, and kind. She was a perfectionist.

"I love her very much." he said, looking at the older wizard who could see the epiphany on his face. "I think I would follow her to the ends of the earth."

"Well, then she stays." he nodded. "She will graduate. She will start teaching in the fall. People will talk but you've never cared for people."

"No."

"I'm glad you're happy, my boy." Dumbledore said. "Just be careful. Hermione has a lot of people who love her who aren't afraid to hex your face right off your head."

"I'm one of them." Snape assured her. "May I go tell her?"

"I suppose you can. Though I'd appreciate if her last night as a student was spent in her own dormitory."

"Yes, Sir." Snape said and escorted the old man out of the dungeons and made his way to Gryffindor tower. He wished fiercely for an invisibility cloak of his own and loathed Potter just a bit more. Now that Dumbledore knew he felt like the world knew and glared at anyone who dared look him in the eye. He knew it was silly, he trusted Dumbledore's confidence in this matter and he felt as though he could trust Hermione's discretion (but he had a niggling little feeling in the back of his mind that Potter probably already knew or would know soon but he batted it away). Still it was an uncommon time for him to be seen prowling the corridors and the higher he rose – the closer to Gryffindor tower he got, more and more people wondered what he was doing – where he was headed.

Finally, in a blessedly empty hallway, he came to the Head Girl portrait and snapped the password ("Alchemy" one may remember) and the portrait swung open begrudgingly. She was not inside. He did not expect that she would not be inside. He expected her to be packing, perhaps (but that task was complete) or possibly wallowing in her own tears, thrashing about on the bed but to be gone threw him for a loop. He sat uncertainly on the very edge of the bed. He'd not been in since that first night carrying her back and then it had been dark. It was a pleasant room if overly pastel but it was devoid of any character for she had packed all her things. If he listened, he could hear laughter through a wooden door which must have lead to her common room. Of course there would be celebrations tonight. He felt a little silly thinking she would waste her last night of fun moping about him and he stood to go but the door swung open rather unexpectedly and there she was, traipsing into the room up a flight of narrow stairs laughing (not giggling for Hermione had told him last Tuesday that she abhorred giggles now that she was an adult and was determined to break herself of the immature habit) at some joke and he could hear another pair of feet behind her. He turned to face her and her companion deeming himself too dignified to flee.

"Professor!" she exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder at Ginny Weasley and – lo – a third Gryffindor femme, who looked to be a rather tipsy Lavender Brown. Swell. He squared his shoulders and he could see the mirth leave her expression and her features schooled themselves into neutrality. "Did you wish to speak to me?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, I'm sorry for the intrusion, I expected you to be in." he said, just as formally, their clipped speaking manner still habit in front of others. Ginny was watching the situation with the same amount of interest as one watches a train derail and Lavender was swaying a bit and then widened her eyes and bolted for the bathroom where she could be heard retching. It was most unpleasant for all involved.

"Well, I'll just go check on her." Ginny said, the only Weasley (save her mother) who'd ever been able to read a room. Hermione gave her a grateful smile.

"I'm sorry, I wouldn't have invited them up." she said. "Let's go to the sitting room." she offered, looking at the bathroom. He nodded and they slunk out of the room. He didn't sit but began pacing while she offered to call for tea which he refused.

"I spoke with Albus." he said, in a hushed tone. They were both listening for Ginny or Lavender.

"I suspected." she said, feeling suddenly nauseous herself.

"You will graduate in the morning, receive your diploma." he assured her and she relaxed only slightly.

"And then leave." she supplied regretfully.

"Only if you wish." he said.

"I can stay on?" she asked, not at all quietly. He nodded.

"You can stay, Professor." he said. She grinned and threw herself at him. He'd gotten used to her surprise hug attacks and had already opened his arms in anticipation. He'd missed her all day and had been so scared that he'd not get to hold her again after Dumbledore had told him that he knew. But now he buried his nose in her hair and tightened the pads of his fingers against her shoulder blades while she breathed deeply with relief. She soon stepped back and looked at him still glowing.

"Thank you for telling me." she said. "There is so much I want to talk about right now but it's the last night and I'm expected back at the party." she said.

"Of course. We'll talk tomorrow. After the ceremony." he said. "Goodnight, love." he whispered and she nodded.

"Goodnight, Severus." she said. He let himself out of the portrait and she stared wistfully at the space he'd occupied for a few moments. "I know you're there." she called finally and Ginny Weasley stepped out from behind the mostly closed bedroom door sheepishly. "How much did you hear?" Hermione demanded.

"Well, Lavender passed out right around him calling you professor." she said. "I didn't mean to listen but… you're sleeping with Snape!" Ginny said. "I am shocked! I demand to know every detail right now or I will hex you, so help me Merlin, I will." Hermione rolled her eyes, already seeing it was going to be a long night.

"I don't have to tell you anything. In a few hours I will be your Professor and for every hex you fling at me I'll take away 50 house points." she said but Ginny could tell she was teasing.

"Well, am I the first to know?" Ginny asked, knowing when to back down from Hermione. She also knew Hermione would tell her eventually and she just had to be patient.

"No. Dumbledore found out this morning and I told Harry at dinner. Please, please keep it a secret." she whispered. "Please."

Ginny looked at her thoughtfully. She'd never sleep with Snape. She hated Snape. It was Weasley tradition. She found him foul and cruel and though he was less greasy now, he was still far, far from her type. And yet, she'd just seen (through a crack in the bedroom door using the extendable ears she'd had in her pocket) a side of Snape that she would have swore never existed. He'd hugged her with such gentleness; he'd called her 'love'. He'd looked happy. It'd taken a while for her to recognize the expression of happiness on his face but once she did, she knew she could never see him the same way again just as she knew now that she wouldn't betray Hermione.

"Of course." Ginny promised. "Shall we put Lavender to bed then?"

"I don't know – a night on the bathroom floor might do her some good." Hermione said, relaxing. They went back to the party, deciding to leave Lavender where she lay. The whole room greeted them cheerfully, the seventh years all roaring like lions, as was tradition. She roared back but she could not help but think about Severus for the rest of the night. Once she was an adult, a professor, they would have to hide their relationship less and less. Would it still be the same with out the passion that their secret brought out? If it wasn't clandestine, would she still love him? She could feel Harry's eyes on her all night, burning to know what had happened – why'd they'd spent so long in her room (and where'd Lavender go?) but she shook him off and when no one was looking, she crept out of the tower and made her way silently to the dungeons, intending to see him one last time while it was still forbidden.


	4. four

Graduation seemed to pass in a blur. There was a crowd of parents and students and Hermione had to charm her cone hat to stay on her head as her hair was really too large to allow her to be a hat person. After the diplomas were handed out, everyone was ushered into the great hall where there was a buffet and then people began to leave in shifts. There were three trips of the Hogwarts express – the first leaving right after the ceremony, one a few hours later, and a late night trip to accommodate everyone. Harry and Ron decided to leave on the last train as Hermione wasn't leaving at all. They spent the day on the grounds, walking around the lake and sitting in the deserted Gryffindor stands at the Quidditch pitch. He and Ron were both applying for Auror school for the fall but Harry had told her secretly that he'd gotten a few offers to join league Quidditch teams.

They made plans to see each other – Hermione promised to come to London and to the Burrow for weekend visits and they promised to come to Hogwarts to make sure she was settling in. It seemed strange to have to re-settle into a place that had been her home for nearly a decade. Finally, it was time for them to go and all three hugged and cried and feeling like a child – feeling everything irrevocably change at just that moment – she ran along side the train until the platform ran out and then she sat at the station weeping until Severus came and walked her back to the empty castle.

He didn't tell her she was being immature or silly. He just let her sit next to him on his bed and cry.

"I cried on my last day of Hogwarts, too." he whispered, an intimate confession. "Change is hard." He'd had the weight of the death eaters behind him when he'd graduated and he still shuddered at the recollection of making the worst choice he'd ever made.

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm really happy. It's just…" she didn't quite know how to articulate it and so she shrugged and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and let her bottom lip stick out and tremble a bit. He leaned in and kissed it softly.

"Why don't you get ready for bed?" he asked, pointing to the boxer shorts and tank top that was on the trunk at the foot of his bed. She's started to leave things in his room – night clothes and a tooth brush and a few hair accessories here and there. At first he'd bristled at the sight of a bright pink hair elastic on his night stand but now he cherished the sight of their poessesions mingling. She nodded and started to take off her dress robes and he went into the bathroom. She climbed in bed and pulled the warm comforter miserably up to her quivering chin. When he came back out he'd changed into a pair of cotton sleeping pants – black – and nothing else. His hair was down and he had a cool, damp cloth in his hand. He sat next to her on the bed and wiped her cheeks with the cloth and then laid it over her eyes. It felt good on her swollen eyelids and he whispered soothing sounds to her until she fell asleep.

In the morning she felt hung over from crying. Her face felt enormous and puffy and she was still congested. Severus was next to her snoring softly. She didn't want to wake him because it was early yet so she slid out of the warm bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. In the mirror, she looked about as bad as she felt and her reflection gazed back sympathetically. She brushed her teeth, something she'd neglected to the night before (her parents would have been appalled) and then ran a bath in his deep and long claw foot bathtub. She decided against any of the bath salts that sat along the edge (it was a very luxurious bathroom for such a practical man) and stripped and sunk into the clear, hot water. She sat with her knees pressed to her chest. She was sad at the loss of her childhood and that she would no longer be in shouting distance of Ron and Harry but she realized that she was content. She wasn't worried which was new as well. She'd graduated and Dumbledore knew her deep secret. She was naked mere feet away from Snape but no one was going to burst in and take it all away from her. Things had really worked out for the best. She let the hot water turn her pale skin bright red and she let the steam clear her sinuses. She'd put a warming charm on the water so she could stay in there all day if she wanted and she would never get cold. Her skin might shrivel off but a small price to pay for constant warmth, she thought. After about ten minutes, she heard light knocking and the bathroom door opened and Snape came in to see what she was doing.

"Everything okay?" he asked, giving her the once over. She nodded and gave him a smile. He let his lips twitch into a small smile before he pushed the pants off his hips. "Mind if I join you?" She scooted forward to make room for him and he gingerly stepped into the water. "Merlin, Hermione, how do you stand it this hot?" he said through clenched teeth.

"I hate to be cold." she said and when he got settled, she laid her head against her chest and he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. "Thank you for taking care of me last night." she said. He didn't reply but squeezed her briefly. At first, the dungeons had depressed her slightly always being so dark when she knew that outside the sun was brilliantly shining. It made it harder to wake up but now she was glad for the darkness because sitting in a steaming bath with Severus in soft candle light was a kind of bliss she'd never known before.

"What are your plans for today?" he asked, after a long silence except for the splashing their slight movements caused and the sounds of breathing.

"Move into McGonagall's room." she said. "Though I suppose I'll have to start calling it my room, now."

"I'll miss her." Snape said, uncharacteristically. "It was hard to see her leave. Did Dumbledore choose a new head of house?" He was wondering who the new deputy headmaster or mistress would be as well but he kept that to himself for now.

"Not yet." she said. He hummed a bit. Dumbledore had asked Severus to be his new deputy headmaster but he'd not decided if he was going to accept yet and so he refrained from telling Hermione just yet.

"Most of the staff leaves the castle until at least mid-July." he said. "I tend to stay because it's the only time I have to do any real research but I was thinking of maybe spending a few weeks in Italy." he said. "If I went do you think I could convince you to come along?" She turned to face him, upsetting a good portion of water over the side of the tub onto the floor. He had an estate there, on a winery that he'd been neglecting for far too long. He knew Hermione would be shocked when she saw the first signs of the wealth he had. He did not flaunt his money but it was there and it would take him an entire life time to spend even a fraction of it. He had the sudden urge to spoil Hermione silly.

"You want to go away with me?" she asked.

"I believe we spoke about this once before in Diagon Alley after your NEWTs." he reminded her. "Don't seem so surprised."

"I thought that once I graduated, that once I was no longer so… against the rules you might lose interest in me. Instead you become even better and invite me to Italy." she said. "Of course I would go. Wild horses, Severus."

"You thought that? Hermione, I love you for you regardless of your social position or age." he said.

"You love me?" she asked. He kept dropping these huge bombs on her like it was nothing!

"I can't be certain as I've never been in love before but I think that this feeling, this fluttering inside me whenever I see you, is something akin to love." he said. "I understand if you don't reciprocate." he added hastily. She leaned in and kissed him.

"I love you." she said. "When do we leave?"

When they finally made it out of the tub, Hermione left him to his own devices to start unpacking her things in her new room. Or rooms, as it were. The house elves had cleaned and moved her luggage to the rooms and Dumbledore had left a note on the table inside telling her that she could have her choice of any portrait in the castle that wasn't currently in use and that was large enough to replace the tabby cat. She was pleased about that – she loved crookshanks who'd taken up a permanent residence at Grimmauld place – but she didn't _love_ cats. There was a beautiful picture of a dancing couple on the third floor that she'd always admired.

The elves had left all her things in the bedroom though it was not much. Clothes and books and a few odds and ends but she'd never had enough space for much else. Marginally more once she'd made Head Girl, yes, but even then she'd never bothered wasting money on things she didn't absolutely need. She started hanging her clothes in the closet and realized immediately she would have to go buy more. She had muggle clothes of course – a few pairs of jeans and shirts and a couple skirts and blouses. She had two formal dress robes from the occasional Yule ball or ministry function but those were both rather short in the sleeve now and tight around her hips. Then she had row upon row of Hogwarts uniforms and robes. She had nothing suitable for daily teaching or for a tryst in Italy. She set out her shoes in a row at the bottom of the antique cupboard and went about putting the books into the empty shelves. She needed at least three more bookcases. There were only two and those only had five shelves each. She would add it to her list of things to give to the elves. Of course she didn't like asking them to do things but she'd calmed in her maturing and she figured she would be as kind and fair to them as she could be if nothing else.

Eventually she'd gotten all her things situated and the rooms still looked empty and impersonal. There were a few items at her parent's house she'd bring back but she just didn't have very much to her name. A steady paycheck would change that sure enough. Dumbledore had given her a summer bonus – unusual for a Hogwarts professor but he called it compensation for her work the previous year and she was certain Severus had said something.

The room was not her style either. The bed linens were all a dusty rose color and there were floral patterns everywhere. It would take time changing the colors of everything magically. Part of her wanted to just go to Muggle London and buy fabric and bed clothes and do it the old fashioned way but she wasn't making _that _much money. She stripped the bed and put what was there in the laundry. She would have it cleaned before she changed it all. She charmed most things to be just white until she decided what to do with them. It made the room seem like a hotel room but it also made the room brighter (windows were something Severus lacked) and she enjoyed the sunlight for a while. A house elf appeared around noon to tell her that Master Snape had requested her presence for her in his chambers. She gave him her list of things to do and thanked him. She was in jeans and a tight t-shirt with Minnie Mouse on it. If they were going to be together he would have to get used to her casual love for the female mouse.

"What is that wretched thing on your shirt?" he asked immediately when she entered.

"Her name is Minnie and I love her and true love never dies." she protested. "I was informed that my presence was requested."

"It was and here you are." he said, pointing to the food on the table. She sat down and they started to eat quietly. "Did you get your things in order?" he asked.

"For the most part. I haven't redecorated yet. Well, I've undecorated, really, if that makes sense." She didn't wait for him to tell her that it didn't. "I've not yet decided what color scheme I want."

"I find silver and green to work quite well." he said if only to get a reaction from her. She scowled.

"If you're going to speak at least be useful." she said.

"My, I'm rubbing off on you." he said. "That was almost hurtful. To a lesser being, perhaps."

"I do need a trip to Diagon alley." she said ignoring him and barreling on in the conversation. "I was thinking of going in the morning if you'd like to come." He considered this for a moment.

"You do realize that it would be our coming out so to speak. As contemporaries and companions." he told her.

"If you don't feel comfortable with it, I understand." she said but she didn't understand, really. She wanted to owl the world, to tell everyone that she'd snagged the unsnagable man, that she'd not only fallen in love with Severus Snape but that he loved her back.

"I didn't say that." he said. "People will talk and you ought to be prepared for it."

"I'm a Gryffindor." she said.

"Don't remind me."

She didn't even bother to sleep in her room that night, even after all the work she'd put into it. She slept – a word she used loosely – with Severus as what was quickly becoming the norm. They slept only after hours of making love. Something was a little different about how he touched her, she noticed. He wasn't as gentle. It wasn't that he was rough, exactly, but he was possessive. His hands no longer lingered on her skin but roamed freely. It felt like his mouth and fingers were everywhere at once. He picked her up as if she were a rag doll and placed her on top of him. For someone who was as power hungry as he had once been, he rather liked being on bottom she mused silently. But it wasn't that he was submissive. There was something entirely erotic about seeing Hermione above him, her face twisted with concentration and pleasure – rising and falling and rising again – a phoenix in her own right.

They slept late the next morning, showered together, and readied themselves for their outing in Diagon Alley.

"Perhaps it won't be crowded." she said. "Monday morning isn't a high shopping time."

"It's hardly morning anymore. And besides, the type of people who will gossip are not the type of people who have to go to work on a Monday morning." he chided her. "It is the first day of summer as well. You'll run into your little friends, I imagine."

"Don't be so condescending towards me." she snapped and he looked a little taken aback. "I'm not your student anymore." she reminded him.

"You're right." he said but did not apologize as it was not his style. "Now, you're not wearing that out, are you?" he asked eyeing her muggle clothing. She rolled her eyes.

They went to Madam Malkin's first so Hermione could get proper robes. The woman quickly took her measurements with a tape measure that shot right out of the tip of her wand while Severus took a seat prepared for an hour of sheer boredom. She got a few basics – black and purple and green – for teaching with a modest neckline that was floor length and had beautiful embroidery on the sleeves that were like bells. Then, splurging, she got a new set of formal robes in red that were knee length and backless. Severus who'd been quiet grunted approvingly when she stepped from the dressing booth. A few more casual robes and they were done.

"That was painless." she said, allowing him to carry her bags. He merely grunted again, heading for the bookstore. She could love a man who led her to a bookstore without complaining or without her having to drag him herself. Inside the bookstore Snape immediately recognized the blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy. He looked up at them as soon as the bell on the door tinkled and smiled most unattractively.

"Hello, Severus. Doing a little shopping?" he drawled, setting the book in his hands down carelessly. Severus wanted to shove Hermione away behind the nearest bookshelf – to hide her not because he was ashamed but because Lucius Malfoy was dangerous. He had always been dangerous even without the backing of the Dark Lord. He'd raped countless girls while they were in school together, had beaten boys and had cheated without any showing of conscience. He was – simply – evil. If he decided that he didn't approve of Hermione with Severus, he would not rest until she was disposed of. But Hermione didn't slink away or cower in the slightest. She lifted her chin, her mouth set, and stared at him, daring him to say something.

"Yes," Severus said adopting the bored tone he always used with Lucius. "I'm surprised you're still in Britain." Lucius generally whisked Draco and Narcissa off to France for the summer which suited most everyone just fine – being rid of the Malfoys for a few months was pleasant.

"We'll leave in due time." he said and then finally moved his gaze down to Hermione. "Miss your train? Did mommy and daddy forget to come fetch you?" he spat.

"Apparently Draco doesn't tell you everything." she said coolly. "I've been hired as Transfiguration professor full time."

"Dumbledore always did pity you mudbloods." he said.

"That's enough, Lucius." Severus seethed. He'd had enough of this man to last him a few lifetimes.

"Sticking up for her now?" Lucius asked. "Is she your little whore for the summer?" Hermione's face burned. It was an awful thing to say and she itched to put her wand to this throat just as she did to his son.

"Not everyone marries whores, Lucius. How is Narcissa, by the way?" Severus asked, bored again. The blond man seemed to grow paler with his fury.

"Everyone shall know." he said. "You're hardly even a Slytherin anymore." Having enough, Lucius swept out of the bookstore but his majesty was gone. Hermione slumped next to him, exhausted from the encounter.

"I'm sorry." Severus murmured.

"You were right. It was to be expected." she said.

"Come on. I've had enough of this country. Let's go finish packing and leave early, hmm?" he asked, leading them back into the ally to where they could apparate to the gates of Hogwarts.

"Yes." Hermione agreed, but her mind was elsewhere. She didn't want Severus to lose his respect in the wizarding community. Lucius Malfoy was not a man to have as an enemy. She was beginning to wonder if their being together was hurting him more than helping him. Should she bow out gracefully to save the man she loved even more scorn then he'd already acquired over the years? She had a lot of thinking to do. She let him lead her back to Hogwarts in silence.


	5. five

Hermione seemed to forget all about her worries when they arrived in Italy. Severus hadn't told her much about where they'd be going; only that he owned some property near a small wizarding town in southern Italy. They flooed because it was hard for Hermione to apparate to somewhere she'd never been and there was too much luggage for Severus to apparate them both along with all the things. Severus didn't much like traveling by floo – too much ash – but the house was connected to the network and it didn't take much time so it was the way they went. 

Hermione never liked flooing much either, truth be told. The green flame creeped her out (it was unnatural!) and even though she knew it wasn't true, she felt as if everyone could see her whizzing by their open fireplaces on the way. They landed after was seemed like forever. It was a modest looking kitchen, old fashioned at best, and Hermione thought it was quaint.

"This is nice." she said, dusting dress off. Severus just smirked.

"This is the servant's kitchen, Hermione." he said. "It's not even attached to the main house." Her eyes widened and then narrowed.

"Then why did we floo here?" she asked.

"It's not proper to just land in someone's clean living room." he said. Sometimes the fact that she was muggle never crossed his mind but sometimes she didn't know basic society behavior. "I'm afraid I might have not been as honest with you as I should have been." he said and she looked a little scared.

"Go on."

"It's not just a house." he said. With that, he moved and opened a weathered wooden door and pointed to the main grounds. She moved to the door and audibly gasped. The house was enormous. It was a mansion. It was beautiful. It had beige, stucco walls, almost in a sprawling mission style. Beyond the house were miles and miles of grapevines. The sky was blue, the sun warm, and the air sweet.

"This is yours?" she asked, eyeing him.

"When my parents died I was left with their – considerable fortune." he said. "It's not something I spread around and it isn't something I find very important. I still work like everyone else. At first I worked at Hogwarts because I was safe there and then I was a spy and now… now there is you." he said, drawing her near to him. "I hope this doesn't change your perspective of me."

"Of course not." she said, instantly. It did, though, how could it not? She knew money changed people. Ron Weasley would not be Ron Weasley if he'd had a pocket full of Galleons all the time. The house was beautiful though and she longed to see it.

"Leave the luggage, the elves will see to it." he said. She'd traveled in muggle clothes – a summer dress that swirled around her calves in the breeze in a lovely soft blue. They walked hand in hand towards the looming house. There was a swimming pool, a garden, tennis courts (he'd learned of the muggle sport on year and taken a liking to it), and then the house. It was only two stories but sprawling. The floors were tile and the whole house was practically windows and sliding glass doors, always letting light it and allowing for the best of the views. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I adore it. It doesn't seem you, however." she admitted.

"Ah, well I didn't much want to be me when I bought it. It is very secluded though. I rarely leave the grounds when I come here. There is a wizard town – you can barely call it that – a few miles one direction and a muggle village in the other direction. I hope you won't be bored."

"I doubt boredom will be a problem." she said. "There's a library?" He nodded.

"A potions lab, as well." he said. "I figured I could continue my research and if you'd like you could help." he said.

"Hmmm, working with a potions master in his lab? Sounds dreadful." she said sarcastically, wandering away to what looked to be the master bedroom. She pushed opened the double doors and smiled in delight. The bed was of wrought iron frame but not, she noticed, four posters. It was a sleigh bed, really, with curves and white sheets and a lovely brown comforter. To the left she saw the master bath and to the right was a balcony overlooking the pool. "Let's never go back." He chuckled. He saw their luggage was already in the spacious closet and he moved to remove his traveling cloak and ash covered outer garments. It was warm and he rarely wore anything other then black wool but in front of Hermione he didn't feel like being so buttoned up. He left his trousers and white shirt on and turned to her.

"Do you wish to change or unpack?" he asked. She waved her wand so all the ash disappeared – a much easier feat on a simple cotton dress than on the expensive fabrics he wore. They unpacked, hanging their clothes side by side and putting their toothbrushes next to one another in the holder. Once settled in, he suggested they do a little shopping for food in the wizarding town. He pulled her close and apparated them there and she was delighted in the quaint old town. They were all speaking Italian – or dialects of it – that she couldn't understand but he surprised her by greeting the shop keeper in the dialect. He smiled at her and she closed her mouth. Severus certainly was full of surprises today. They bought milk, bread, cheese, fruits, vegetables, and an assortment of meat; Plenty of the basics so they would not have to return to town for a couple weeks at least.

When they returned to the mansion, they put all the food in the main kitchen which had a mixture of muggle and wizard appliances. There was a large, stainless steel refrigerator that used electricity but was bewitched to be much more environmentally friendly. Hermione immediately set about making them sandwiches for lunch while Severus disappeared into the cellar to find a bottle of wine for them to drink with the food. He came back up with a bottle of red wine – "I loathe white," he said – with a beautiful label on it. It said in an ornate script, Snape Vineyards and the 'S' on 'Snape' was a swirling serpent upon closer inspection. He opened the bottle with a flick of his wand (Hermione blushed as she was about to rise to dig through the drawers for a corkscrew) and poured them both a glass.

"Tell me about your research." she said, pushing her plate away, sated and taking the wine glass to nurse lightly as she leaned back in her chair.

"I was wondering when you would start asking about that." he said, leering seductively at her. "I kept you distracted for quite a while."

"Yes, well, you're very good at distraction." she said, blushing. The wine was making her a bit tipsy and she liked the way his eyes felt on her, roaming her body in the tight, strapless dress. "But I would like to know, now, if I am to assist you."

"I've not written about it." he said and she knew he meant in any potions journals which meant his research was either very new or very unorthodox. Her interest was immediate. "What do you know about time, Miss Granger?"

"Well, Professor," she said, playing along, "Only the basic theories… Einstein's theory of relativity and what I learned for myself from the use of the time turner. It seems that time cannot be changed or altered but it can be interrupted. Does that make sense?" she asked. When he said nothing, she continued. "When I used the time turner, I thought I couldn't change anything because it would alter the flow of time but then I realized that my altercations to time were actually a part of the past. When we saved buckbeak from execution… I realized I had to warn myself by throwing pebbles because pebbles had been thrown at me hours before."

"What did you know about the time turner its self?" he asked.

"They are rarely issued because mismanagement often causes the irresponsible user's insanity. There are a few that are like I had, only strong enough to go back a couple hours but Headmaster Dumbledore told be that the first time turner invented was able to go back decades." she said. "It's a very complicated charm, bringing a turner to life and only a few know it."

"All a good start." he said. "What many don't know is that the time turner is not only charmed but it involves potions as well."

"How so?" she asked, confused.

"Inside the hourglass." he said. "It's not sand."

"It's a potion!" she exclaimed. "Of course."

"The smallest amount of a very powerful potion that when combined with the certain charm can conquer time." he said.

"So what is your experiment?" she asked, the wine forgotten and her buzz gone replaced by curiosity.

"Changing the potion to experiment with what the time turner can really do. How far back can you go? And can you change the where as well? Perhaps even going forwards instead of backwards. Pausing time. There is a whole range of possibilities." he said. "I've only just begun but I thought perhaps we could spend some time on it while we're here." She nodded enthusiastically already itching to read his notes and start some of her own. "Not this afternoon, though." he said.

"Of course." she said, reigning herself in. "What would you like to do?"

"I would like to get you in the smallest bathing suit imaginable and watch you turn brown by the pool." he said. She chuckled a bit and shrugged.

"As you wish, Sir." she said and cleaned up the dishes with a wave of her wand. The bathing suit she had was not very skimpy. It was a one piece made for swimming laps more then turning on professors. She'd been on the swim team when she'd gone to muggle school. At Hogwarts there was not swimming pool that she'd ever found (though that never meant very much) and while some brave souls went into the lake when the weather finally turned favorable, she was never one of them. Just the thought of swimming over mer-people with spears or an enormous squid was enough to put her of swimming for seven years. She swam at home during the summer and now it was much the same. She'd started to think of Severus at home. She pushed the dark thoughts of leaving him away for another time though she'd not forgotten the piercing, judging eyes of Lucius Malfoy and the way his words had made Snape's backbone straight as a board. Instead she focused her energy on the black one piece laid out before her. She cut it in half with a muttered spell and then transfigured it into a two piece. She'd seen a few in catalogues at home on her mother's sun porch and Lavender had a new one every year, each less fabric than the last. She never swam but would lay out in the sun near the Herbology greenhouse (she claimed the light reflecting off the glass helped her tan faster) and gave all the boys (and some of the girls) a free show until inevitably professor McGonagall would stomp out and make her come inside. Lavender had always thought that five Gryffindor points was well worth her tan.

Now, looking at the two triangles and a string that compose her once modest suit, Hermione sent silent thanks to her blonde roommate. The bottoms could retain their basic shape – she just gave them better hems. Donning the suit and finding her sunglasses – a very muggle contraption because most wizards just charmed their eyes to reflect the sun but Hermione thought it was a style thing. She was Holly Golightly hiding behind her giant dark glasses – a reference surely lost on Severus. She trotted downstairs with a fluffy towel over her shoulder. Severus was already sitting under the shade of a large umbrella reading from a dusty book and scribbling notes. She sauntered past him, dropping her glasses right onto his notes, smearing the fresh ink and causing him to growl in a way meant to frighten seventh years and completely destroy first years. She didn't pause and he looked up. His look of irritation faded into one of longing and then outright hunger as she placed her towel carefully on a dry bit of pavement, tapped her wand over her head and said a spell to protect her skin from sun damage and then dove gracefully into the large, rectangular pool with nary a splash. She swam a few laps to reacquaint herself with the feel of swimming, of the water. There was no chlorine to tinge her hair green in this pool. It was a wizard's pool and she assumed it was self-cleaning – no nasty chemicals needed.

Snape watched her form shoot back and forth across the water and had to fight the urge to throw caution to the wind and dive in after her but he was not an athlete but a scholar and the pool was there when he bought the house and it was just easier to keep it. He'd never been inside of it, not once, but he had to admit it did look rather refreshing on such a warm day. He didn't even own any proper swimming gear. He was sweating a bit in his wool pants and linen shirt, though he'd unbuttoned the shirt nearly all the way, letting his pale chest seen a little sunlight. Hermione's head popped up over the side of the pool and she looked younger than usual.

"You ought to give it a try." she said. It was because her hair was straight, heavy with water, he mused. She looked like a fourth year.

"Do you think?" he asked, actually considering.

"Yes." she said, pushing herself out of the pool. The water fell off her in drops, sliding down the plane of her stomach, taking a detour through her belly button, and some of the drops curving over her hips. He wanted to lick the water from between her breasts. "If, of course, you're done ogling me." she snickered. He said nothing, unaware of anything above her shoulders. She walked towards him and pushed the shirt off his shoulders.

"I haven't… anything proper to wear." he said, though he had to clear his throat several times for the words to emerge.

"We're alone here." she said. "You don't need to wear anything." she pulled him up and started to undo his pants. She purposefully grazed the hard lump there a number of times and he was openly groaning now. "I suppose I'm rather good at distractions, too, eh?" she said, yanking down the pants as well as his boxers shorts and it was a relief to spring free, as it were. She crouched down to remove his socks, one at a time, her face level with his waist.

"Tease." he murmured, pulling at her head with his hands but she resisted. She stood and led him to the pool.

"It's better if you just jump in rather than easing yourself in." she said. He rolled his eyes and walked a few meters to the steps and walked in without showing any reaction to the temperature. She shrugged and dove in, swimming to meet him where he could stand and she couldn't. She tread water for a few moments before he pulled her to him and kissed her like a starving man. She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him support her weight and he walked forward so her back was pressed against the side of the pool where he made love to her, twice. He decided from then on that they should swim every day while they were on holiday because swimming was fun.

That night, she was exhausted from the sun and Severus was examining his skin in the mirror.

"It hurts." he said.

"Yes, it's a sunburn." she said. "Why didn't you use protection?"

"I'm never in the sun." he said. "How long will it hurt? I feel hot and cold at the same time." he said, pressing his fingers to the red skin of his chest and shoulders.

"You're probably a bit feverish." she said. "Come here. Lay down, I know of something that will help you." He obeyed and climbed into the bed. The silk sheets scratched his tender skin and he tried not to move. She went out to the garden where she'd seen some succulent plants growing and she broke off a few of the leaves. He eyed her suspiciously when she came back in, her hands full.

"I don't think spiny weeds will help the discomfort." he said petulantly. She rolled her eyes in a very Snape like manner and ordered him to sit up. She squeezed the pulp of the plant out and rubbed it carefully into the red parts of his skin. He felt a little better, soothed. "If we were at school there would be potions for this."

"Yes, well, muggles use this plant. We've improved on it, of course, but really the basics will do in a pinch. Now, it should fade a bit each day. You've learned your lesson now, though, yes?" she said. He glared at her and extinguished the lights with a wave of his wand. It wasn't dark, though. The moon shone in through the glass that led to the balcony and his features glowed. She rolled on her side to look at him, her expression serious.

"What's on your mind, love?" he asked, knowing he was being inspected.

"Malfoy." she said, knowing it was no use to lie to him.

"I told you not to let that bother you." he said.

"I know. I just… I wonder if it might be best for me to…" but the words wouldn't come.

"No." he said.

"If we had this time and then I bowed out gracefully… We could have the summer but I don't want you to lose your reputation. You've worked hard for your status and I bring you down more pegs then are worth it."

"Is that all I am to you? Your summer fling?" he asked, sitting up forcefully.

"No!" she said. "I love you."

"Then stop talking rubbish. I care little of Malfoy or anyone else's opinion." he said. "You approve and Albus approves and that is all that matters and I won't hear anymore of your self indulgent nonsense." he said. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." she said.

"Silly, silly girl." he said, laying back down and pulling her body close to his. His skin radiated heat. "One million points from Gryffindor from your complete lack of faith."

"I'm a professor now too." she reminded him. "One million points from Slytherin for not seeing that I'm trying to do what's best for you. Also, for being a prat and taking so many points from the obviously superior house."

"Obviously superior?" he squawked, laughing. "Nonsense! You are silly and delusional and I think you ought to be taught a lesson. Over my knee, young lady." She was laughing now he was kicking the bed linens down so he could pull her tiny frame across his lap and lift her short nightgown where her bottom was bare and laid his palm against in a sharp slap that caused her to shriek and laugh and beg him to stop all at once. He did and she squirmed around until she was next to him once more, her face against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I doubted you." she said.

"You should be." he replied, still a little cross. "I adore you and if you don't know that by now then I'm afraid you never will."

"I know." she said. He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled closer to him. They fell asleep with the covers down by their feet, the heat of his burn keeping her warm. When she woke up, it wasn't quite morning. The sky outside was grey with the very beginnings of light. She felt exhausted – her limbs heavy and she wasn't sure what woke her. Severus was heavily asleep next to her tangled in the white sheet. She was a little chilled so she scrambled down to the end of the bed to pull the heavier blanket off the floor and over her. After a few minutes, she decided to get a glass of water and padded to the bathroom to stick her head under the faucet. She'd only been gone a moment when the bathroom door flew open and Severus with a somewhat crazed look in his eye lunged for her, holding her tightly to him.

"Hermione." he said, but it came out like a sob.

"Good heavens, what happened?" she said, trying to straighten out and look at him properly but he was holding onto her too tightly. She'd not even turned the water off yet.

"I woke up and you were gone." he said. "You weren't there." This surprised her. She knew that he was slowly become more and more attached to her (as was she to him) but this was the behavior of a desperate man. She recognized the signs of a nightmare on him. Confusion, desperation, and fine sheen of sweat covering his now faintly pink skin. It was probably one part fever and one part his past. It scared her, sometimes, how very little she really knew of him.

"I'm here. I just went to get a drink. I'm here, Severus." she said, finally hugging him back. They'd sunk down onto the bathroom floor in a tangled heap and she rocked him slowly back and forth on the brown bathroom mat. "I'm not going anywhere." He was openly crying on her shoulder now, big body wracking sobs. She'd walked Harry through a number of nightmares during the summers and 12 Grimmauld place (Ron would sleep through the end of the world) and sometimes the emotion was just overwhelming. Finally – minutes passed – his breathing returned to normal and she could tell the exact moment he became fully aware of his surroundings. His body went from completely limp to completely rigid and he jerked away from her.

"What you must think of me." he whispered, scooting away from her. He looked like a frightened child, scurrying from her, completely nude, and wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.

"Don't do this, don't close off now." she pleaded, but he was already off the floor and out of the bedroom, his robe gone. She couldn't decide whether to follow him. Outside the sun was beginning to rise in earnest now. She wished she could ask someone's advice. Only Harry and Ginny knew of her friends. She wished her mother wasn't so disconnected from her life. She was – really – barely nineteen and this was her first real relationship and Severus was damaged goods. She knew nothing about his childhood, little about his death eater days, and nothing of his love life. She was in love with someone one step up from a stranger.

She found her own robe – still her Hogwarts robe all red and yellow flannel with little lions covering it – and went out to see if she could find him in the expansive house. He wasn't in the kitchen or the library or out by the pool. Finally, she made a pot of coffee and went out to search the vineyards.

She found him after about a mile and an hour. He was sitting with his back against a wooden fence between two of the plants.

"Hello." she said, conjuring him a mug and pouring the coffee into it, still warm from the charmed coffee pot.

"Hello." he said, patting the dirt next to him. She sat carefully, avoiding any unsightly rocks near her bum.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." he said. "Thank you." It was the carefully clipped tone they spoke to one another with when they were hiding their relationship – when she was his student.

"Harry used to have terrible dreams." she said. "But that's all they are, just dreams." He didn't look at her. "The elves made breakfast."

"Did they?" he said, drinking his coffee and grimacing. He really preferred tea.

"They did. I think we should go eat it and perhaps spend the day in your lab?" she offered. They both knew what she was doing. Offering him something he _could _understand. Science, logic, and reason. She was giving him an out. He wasted no time in taking it.

"I have notes you should read." he said, standing and helping her up. They walked back to the house silently. She held his hand and he squeezed it tightly. Another day, perhaps, he would be willing to talk about it. She had to hope. For now, they had their experiments in time to begin, and a whole year of Hogwarts before any decisions had to be made.


	6. six

The summer days seemed to sail by. In the mornings they would work in the labs and afternoons were spent resting. The days were hot and Hermione liked to spend the warmest parts napping or laying out by the pool. Nights were either spent back in the lab or reading in the library or sometimes going to down for dinner. They'd spent nearly three weeks in Italy by the time Hermione decided to write to her friends like she'd promised on the last day of school. They sat in the kitchen – the coolest place in the house – and were quietly working on their own little projects. Hermione had several clean bits of parchment and a fresh bottle of ink laid out in front of her. Severus was doing the crossword in the Daily Prophet. He was very good at them and it was a game he didn't feel silly playing. Hermione decided to write Harry first. He knew about Severus and knew to be discreet. She didn't know why she didn't want to tell Ron but she knew he wouldn't understand and she was afraid their friendship would buckle when he heard.

She described to him the house – how fine it was and how it suited their needs so well – how in a perfect world this summer would never end and they would never leave. She described the grapes (just starting to emerge on the vine) and the blue sky and how Severus was an excellent tennis player (when he cheated) and how she was tan, actually tan as was he, something Harry would never believe.

"Are you writing him a novel?" Severus asked, finally, peering at her tiny, crammed writing on the parchment which was quickly filling up.

"No." she said, glaring.

"Ahh, you write long, flowery letters pontificating on the weather, don't you?" he asked, nailing her in one. She scowled at him and did not answer. He took that as a yes, and went back to his puzzle. She finished the letter telling Harry that Severus was being a prat and that she had to go. It was something he would understand. She addressed the letter and set it aside and pulled a fresh sheet in front of her. Time to write her parents. They didn't know about Severus either but she felt compelled to tell them she was seeing someone. Her mother hinted towards grandchildren all the time, afraid her daughter's bookworm personality would never herald offspring. It was true, though, that Hermione hadn't really ever had a proper boyfriend. There was Viktor Krum of course but that romance fizzled rather rapidly into a pen pal and then nothing when he'd told her writing so frequently to a muggle born was hurting his professional qudditch star image. And then Ron – an awkward three weeks one summer. She'd stayed at the burrow and his kisses her sloppy and finally she told him that she'd much rather be friends. He'd been hurt but found a Hufflepuff to ease his wounds with relative speed. There had been that muggle boy, too, yes but that was no relationship – more of a science experiment.

And then there was now, there was Severus who'd been evil for six and a half years and then appeared one night in a tower and carried her to her bed and invited her into his chambers and had the most beautiful expression of wonder when she'd climbed on top of him that first time, her clothes in a pile – her knickers wrecked – panting like an animal. Severus who woke her up by kissing her neck in just the right way. Severus who could do things with his tongue that she thought might be illegal, they felt so good. Severus, who was twice her age. Severus who had known her when she was 11. Severus who was watching her with a sort of hungry expression as she ran her feather quill along her bottom lip deep in thought.

"I shall have to go see my parents soon." she said, breaking the trance she'd unknowingly put him in.

"For how long?" he asked. His parents had been dead a long time now and it was a chore he'd forgotten about, the obligatory visit.

"A few days, a week at most." she said. "I've not told them about you."

"I imagine not." he said, not offended.

"We leave in a week?" she asked, looking wistfully out the window where she could see a summer storm on the horizon. It would rain tonight.

"I'd planned to." he said.

"Me too." she sighed though. "I love it here." he smiled at her.

"I'm pleased to share it with you." he said. "Hermione, if you wish to keep me from your parents, I won't be offended."

"No." she said, though she _did _wish to keep him from them. "But I think I'll tell them in person." she said. She scribbled out a quick note telling them she'd be home in two weekends and that she missed them. She'd apparate to the owl post in the town in the morning. "You are invited to come with me if you'd like to meet them." she said.

"Absolutely not." he said.

"I thought as much." she said. She couldn't imagine standing on her parent's neat front porch with the tall black potions masters staring dourly at the pastel muggle couple who opened the door to greet their baby girl. She could just imagine telling them that she'd started the relationship before she was even graduated… no, it would be a long while before those three ever came face to face and that is only if she and Severus lasted. She hoped they would. She though about his outburst so early in their stay. It'd not happened again but he held her closer in that grey time between day and night. "I do insist you come to the party at the burrow." she said, feeling brave.

"Party?" he sneered.

"Yes, every end of July. The Weasleys hold a party for all the summer birthdays. Harry and Ginny, mostly, but whoever else cares to attend." she said. "You said that you weren't ashamed to be with me." she reminded him.

"I'm not, but that shouldn't mean I have to subject myself to an afternoon of torture to celebrate someone I don't even like!" he said but he knew it was a losing battle.

"Severus…"

"I'll think about it." he muttered.

Hermione was sad to leave the Italian house. They packed and readied themselves for the trip back to Hogwarts. Hermione had the irrational fear that once this blissfully peaceful holiday ended the spell they were under would break and he would want nothing more to do with her. Or she would leave to visit her parents and come back and he would be gone – off to bigger and better things leaving her to waste away lonely in the castle. She'd spent years wishing for his demise and now she couldn't imagine those hallowed halls without him. He looked at her just as they were about to step in the fireplace back in the servant's kitchen.

"Hermione, love, what's wrong?" he asked, noting her pale face. She looked as if she were going to be sick.

"Make love to me. Once more before we go." she said, already undoing the buttons of her blouse. Italian silk in a pale green that suited her summer tan. He'd bought it for her the day before.

"Now?" he asked, looking at their shoddy surroundings.

"Please." she said. "I need you once more right now." she was hiking up her skirt and pushing down her knickers – a wisp of black lace. He'd bought those, too.

"Hermione." he said, watching her push up onto the kitchen table and lay back, waiting for him. He could see the tears brimming at her eyes. She looked scared. He supposed that if he got one nervous breakdown in Italy, she was allowed one as well. He went over to her and gathered her in his arms, pulling her skirt back down. "What do you think is going to happen once we leave here?" he asked.

"I know exactly what's going to happen." she sniffed. "You're going to realize that I'm the same insufferable know-it-all I've always been."

"I've not forgotten that you're an insufferable know-it-all yet I still want you and I'm not going to stop wanting you just because there is a change of scenery." he assured her.

"I'm silly." she said. "I'm a silly girl. I can't believe you love me." she said, giving him a watery smile.

"But I do." he said, helping her straighten herself out and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They went into the fireplace together.

The castle was still mostly empty, everyone still away. She did feel a little comforted by the familiar castle though and now that she was actually back and Severus was still walking with his hand on the small of her back, her fears seemed unfounded. They definitely needed to work on trust. He deposited her at her room, the portrait of the dancing couple now firmly in place as her entrance. It was much better, the slow twirl of them in the moonlight. He kissed her cheek and told her he was going to be in the dungeons. Told her she should come down later when she was settled and he was settled and they were used to the Scottish country side once more. In her room, she unpacked her luggage and sent all her things to be cleaned by the elves. Everything was still white and she spent the afternoon changing her décor to the warm sepia tones that reminded her of the Italian house.

Soon she was packing again and kissing Severus goodbye and going home for a few days. She was wary to be away from him. Things had been good since their return to Hogwarts a week ago. Dumbledore had returned to the castle later that night and had dinner with them along with Professors Flitwick, Vector, and Sprout who, if they had opinions on the comfortable behavior between Hermione and Snape, said nothing. She liked the acceptance. Now would she find it at home? She apparated to Diagon alley and took the underground home. She stood on her front porch and rang the bell though it would have been perfectly acceptable for her to just walk in. Her father answered the door and hugged her and her mother came and hugged her and there was much hugging before she even made it inside the house. They watched her unshrink her luggage in her childhood bedroom – pink with a twin bed – and her mother fed her dinner and they made small talk before finally, over wine, she told them about Severus.

"I'm seeing someone." she said. Her mother looked immediately enthralled.

"Who?" she asked. "Do we know him?"

"Or her." her father added, without tact. Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not gay." she told her dad, not for the first time.

"Well, we'd love you if you were." he said, sounding unconvinced.

"Thanks, but _he _is a wizard." she said. Her parents showed slight signs of disappointment but no surprise.

"From Hogwarts?" her mother asked.

"Yes." she said, carefully. "I don't think there is any delicate way to put this." she said. "His name is Severus Snape. He's the potions master at Hogwarts." Her father, a champion in denial, smiled.

"A new teacher, like you?" he asked. Her mother who wasn't quite as daft was frowning now.

"No." Hermione said.

"Wait a minute, are you dating a man who was your professor?" her mother asked, stern now.

"Yes." she said. "He's not my professor now, though. We're colleagues."

"And just how old is this Mr. Snake?" her father asked, botching the name in the most comical way.

"Older." she said. She was starting to tire of defending him already. "I'm an adult now and I can see whomever I please." she reminded them.

"We know, we know, we just want what's best for you." her mother snapped. "I just think it's _quite_ inappropriate for teachers to date students." her eyes widened. "This all happened after your graduation, correct?" she asked. Hermione nodded, lying smoothly. She was not a good liar on principal except when it came to explaining Hogwarts to her parents. How do you explain such a glorious place and the things that went on there to a pair of muggle dentists? How did she explain the danger she was in almost constantly since her first day and how did she correctly describe how the war was always looming, how bloody the battles were but how different they were from muggle wars. How Voldemort and the turmoil in the wizarding world had such a blatant effect on muggle warfare? If a war well and truly broke out it would affect everyone, not just wizards.

"He's a good man." she said, "He loves me." Her parents nodded and went back to their treacle tart, quiet. Later, in her room, she changed into one of her more modest nightgowns and crawled into the seemingly tiny bed that had once been hers. There were still her Strawberry Shortcake sheets and her checkered bedspread and her poster Dr. Who (her dark little secret) and all her young adult books that she'd deemed to childish to take to school and her stuffed animals in a basket in her closet full of clothes that no longer fit and should have been given away long ago. Her bedside lamp was on and she had a book on the bed next to her but things looked eerie and unnatural under electric lights. Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world didn't use electricity – it was a wholly muggle invention. She felt out of place now reaching up to twist the knob of the lamp instead of whispering "nox" to kill the lights. She didn't feel as if she belonged to this world. She hadn't felt like she belonged in the wizarding world either until recently. Until Severus. If the head of Slytherin – as purebred as they come – could accept Hermione then anyone could. Not everyone would, of course, but even though she brought Severus down in social status, he did bring her up. A silly thing to worry about but the wizarding world was much more old fashioned than muggles. Her room was quiet and dark and smelled familiar. She missed his arms around her but it didn't take long to fall asleep.

After three days of her parents, she returned to school. She loved them but a weekend was more than enough. Severus wasn't expecting her back for another two days and she wanted to surprise him. It was she who got the surprise to find him gone. His rooms looked normal – his bed was unmade and a few papers were out of place. The lab was empty. It looked like the house elves hadn't yet come through that morning – there was a tea service left on the table. She suddenly had a horrible feeling. Something was wrong. She could almost feel magic in the air – the sizzle of it and the burst smell that she associated with dark magic. She shucked off her cloak and grabbed her wand and made her way toward Dumbledore's office. She didn't make it before she ran into Dobby.

"Hermione Granger!" he shrieked, throwing himself around her legs. The little elf was sobbing and shaking.

"Dobby, what's happened?" she demanded.

"So awful." he continued, creating a big, wet stain on her robes from tears.

"Dobby, where is Severus?" she yelled again, impatient with his display.

"The dark lord has risen, has risen." Dobby cried. "At Hogwarts." She was about to ask for more when she heard it. The casting of hexes, the distinct whizzing of spells shooting from the end of wands. She had come back early to the middle of the battle. The final battle, perhaps. She'd apparated to Hogsmeade and flooed back instead of apparating to the gates. Hogsmeade had seemed deserted but she'd not given it a second thought figuring most people were on holiday as she had been. Now she kicked Dobby off her and ran towards the noise. The closer she came to the great hall, to the front doors of the school, the more people she came across. Bodies, more, the life that made them people gone. Fallen death eaters, fallen professors. She tried not to look at the familiar faces. The small form of Flitwick, what looked to be Percy Weasley, a death eater still in his silver, faceless mask. Oh god.

She had to find Severus. The doors were open and she could see the flashes of light on the lawn. She could see the forms of people all moving slowly, fighting towards one central spot. Lord Voldemort. Part of her wanted to run out screaming, wand blazing but she knew that would be stupid. No one knew she was here. She had to be stealthy for she was a secret weapon. She started shooting spells in to the back of death eaters. She was quiet and effective. She'd come up behind death eaters, not behind the light. They'd already taken the school, pushing the light side further from the castle, deeper toward the forbidden forest.

She felt the urge to use an unforgivable curse. To kill them with a single hex. To use the imperious curse to make them kill each other. She wanted revenge. She took out one more, what looked to be a fatter, older version of Crabbe when she was spotted. She had the sudden horrid thought that one of the masked men was Severus – that she'd disabled her own love. She couldn't think about that now, though, with the black forms advancing towards her. One of the death eaters ripped off the mask and she recognized Bellatrix Lestrange. She'd fought the witch once before, in her fifth year.

Hermione blocked a hex, and another, making her way towards the group of professors and toward, she hoped, Harry. She felt something whiz pass her hair, singeing the skin of her left ear and part of her neck but she didn't stop. Many of the death eaters were focusing on her, taking the heat away from the knot of people who were just meters away now. She didn't see him, though her eyes searched the crowd for his tall, dark form. He wasn't there. Then she felt something hit her in the back, like a chard of metal between her shoulder blades. She couldn't breathe. Her knees hit the grass hard, her cheek harder. She didn't want to close her eyes. Everything blurred. She slipped quietly under.


	7. seven

**A/N:** Okay, I usually don't do this. The whole addendum to the story type deal but I felt it necessary at this point. A few things:

1. Thank so much for all the reviews and support. It is outrageously true that feedback keeps an author writing. I started this story on the back of my bank statement envelope and never thought it would go anywhere and now look! 60+ reviews and tons of support.

2. I've not received any flames but the minor complaint I've gotten is this: OCC. Snape is out of character. Here's the thing: I don't disagree. This isn't quite canon Snape. But. This is FAN FICTION. If I wanted canon, I would read canon. Fan fiction is wonderful because things that would never happen in the real story get to happen abundantly! Snape gets to love Hermione here. If there is any place to be a little OOC, it's here.

3. I wish I could respond to everyone individually but I have neither the time nor the patience to do so. I'm in college and next week is mid-terms. I do note everyone who reviews me, however, and go to their site and read a little of what they wrote and see what they have listed as favorites. I don't ignore you, I'm checking you out, I promise.

4. Sorry for the cliffhanger. That was mean.

* * *

People die in wars and Hermione – from the second she'd learned about Lord Voldemort and the always precarious struggle between light and dark magic, between good and evil – knew she would be willing to do anything to protect the world that had given her hope; the world that she loved so much. She would die to save magic and to save muggle borns like herself. She had the right to magic by her birth and why should anyone be able to take that away?

Still, when the moment came, she was unprepared. The second she felt that tearing pain through her spine she felt like a failure. She was willing to die, yes, but would much rather have won without death. She was willing to die but preferred to live happily ever after, Severus at her side. Yet, if Severus were already dead then what was there to live for? If Voldemort won, would life still be worth living?

She could feel herself clawing toward consciousness. It was like walking from a tunnel of darkness toward the light. Was this heaven? If so, then that whole diatribe about eternal life without pain was rubbish because she felt like hell. The closer she got to the light, the more pain there was and she so backtracked into the warmth, the darkness, once more.

She heard her name, and paused. The voice again. More urgently this time. God sounded a bit like Madame Pomfrey.

It was then Hermione knew that she wasn't dead. She had a choice to make then. Stay in the darkness and assume the worst (no Harry, no Severus, no Hogwarts) or go towards the light no matter the pain and face whatever consequences awaited her. She was still deliberating when the choice was made for her and her body was flung without mercy in to consciousness.

She coughed; the bitter taste of a pepper-up potion still in the back of her throat. Her eyes felt like they had sand in them when she forced them open. She closed them again quickly against the bright light and tried again more slowly. Everything was too blurry. She could barely make out movement around her and everything had that distant echoing of head trauma. She tried to sit up but nixed that idea as a wave of pain and then nausea rolled over her. She felt a hand push her shoulder down, her head against the pillow.

"She's out of the worst of it now." she heard a disembodied voice say and then everything went dark once more.

This happened a few times. A few fleeting moments of the real world but then the pain overtook her and she sunk back down. She had no concept of time or where she was or who was there with her. She had nightmares – swirling imagines of color and sound that didn't mean anything to her but frightened her all the same. When she was more conscious than not, she dreamt of Italy. Of the still blue skies and green leaves on the grape vines. Though summer was ending now, wasn't it? Surely the vines would start to turn all sorts of reds and golds (Gryffindor!) and the grapes would need to be harvested. She was waking up again.

It hurt less this time and she opened her eyes to see snow falling outside. In front of her bed were the large, arched windows of the infirmary at Hogwarts. The window ledge was gathering snow and the window panes were covered with spider webs of frost. It didn't snow in July, did it? Wasn't it July when this had all happened? She'd been looking forward to Harry's birthday, to seeing… Severus. She tried to speak but it came out a moan and a cough. It was night and there were a few soft candles lit but everything was mostly dark and she was alone.

What had she expected? Him to be holding vigil at her bedside? That was never his style anyway and he was most likely dead so she'd just have to get used to being alone again. She felt bitter and alone and without hope. Her head hurt in that omnipresent way she'd gotten used to. She felt like someone had wrung her out. She couldn't really move and felt the embarrassing presence of a bed pan beneath her. Her skin felt dry and sore and she didn't even want to know about her hair.

She tried again to sit up and it was a little easier with full concentration. She propped her elbows underneath her and looked around. She could see other beds with the curtains partially drawn like hers. So she probably wasn't alone, completely. There were other patients. She saw a small boy asleep with a bandaged arm and a few get well cards on the table beside him. If it was snowing, then school had probably begun. So much for her teaching job. Then again, if there was a student, then perhaps not all had been lost. Did she dare to hope for Voldemort's defeat? She needed answers now, there was so much left unsaid. The war, her friends, her lover. She pushed back the bedclothes and gritted her teeth against the pain. She would just go slowly. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, careful not to upset the bedpan (it looked empty and was probably charmed to empty as soon as it was filled) and put her bare feet on the icy floor. As soon as she did that, the doors opened and Madam Pomfrey came bustling in all upset.

"What do you think you're doing?" she whispered shrilly, as to not wake any other patients.

"I…" she said, but her voice was dry and refused to come out.

"While I'm glad to see you up, you are in no position to go anywhere, Miss Granger." she admonished, pushing her back into the narrow cot. Hermione bit back a frustrated sigh. She hated not knowing what was happening. "It's the middle of the night. I'll give you a sleeping draught and we'll talk in the morning." She was saying now, moving away from Hermione and toward the row of shelves that held her various potions.

"No!" Hermione rasped. "Now." Madame Pomfrey paused and considered the girl.

"It's 3:00am, Miss Granger." she said, but Hermione didn't care.

"Water." she ordered and the mediwitch nodded and conjured a glass of water with a wave her wand and handed it to Hermione who sipped at it tentatively. It was soothing to her cotton mouth and she drank the whole glass slowly while Pomfrey fretted and waited. "Severus?" she asked, finally, unable to hold her curiosity at bay, even if it meant receiving the worst news of her life.

"I'll get Headmaster Dumbledore." she said, noncommittally and fled the infirmary. Tears sprang to her eyes immediately for the mediwitch's actions were more than enough proof of her worst fears.

Dumbledore appeared in the fireplace rather promptly, with a warm smile. She was relieved to see him more or less the same as the last time she'd laid eyes on him. Maybe a few more wrinkles and a little less hair but that was expected of someone a century and a half old, wasn't it?

"Hermione, how relieved I am to see you." he said, sitting in the straight back wooden chair that was next to her bed. "You have some questions?"

"Is he dead?" she asked. "Is Severus dead?" He looked at her with a sort of softness in her eyes that made her tears start anew.

"No." he said, surprising her into a fit of particularly bad hiccups that were so heavy she thought she could hear her ribs rattling. Madame Pomfrey rushed to get her a purple potion to take – nasty tasting thing for Severus never worried about taste when he brewed her potions – and the hiccups were gone. "He was hurt very badly, you both were." he said. "Do you remember what happened?" She thought about her dreams, about the images and colors that had been haunting her.

"I remember… I came back early and then Dobby said something about… he has risen at Hogwarts." she said, closing her eyes. Remembering hard. "I could hear the fighting and… no one knew I was there and then I saw the death eaters and the bodies and something hit me in the back, it felt like… like shrapnel." she said, opening her eyes. "What spell hit me?"

"Actually if felt like that because it wasn't a spell. Draco Malfoy hit you in the back with Hagrid's ax for splitting wood." he said. She gasped, horrified. She always knew he was a backstabber, though she didn't appreciate the pun. "You're lucky to be alive."

"What happened?" she asked. "What of Voldemort?"

"Ahh, no longer a threat." Dumbledore said. "Harry fought valiantly." But he didn't look happy.

"Oh no." she murmured. "Harry…" The headmaster did nothing to correct her assumption. Harry had saved them all with his own life. It was all too much; she felt dizzy and had to lay back. "I want to see Severus." she said, shakily.

"I want you to be well-prepared for what you see, Hermione." he said. "Severus is not himself and has not been since the battle. He was held in the _Crucio_ curse for a long time, longer then many people could stand. He's lost a lot of mobility and dexterity. It's hard for him to make potions now. He is very depressed and very bitter." Dumbledore explained. Severus was a bitter man anyhow. This was not good news. "When he saw how badly you were hurt – we didn't think you'd make it – he spiraled even deeper into his guilt."

"I want to see him." she repeated, duly warned and determined.

"In the morning." he promised. "Take Poppy's potion and I'll come by first thing in the morning." She didn't want to wait – he _needed _her, couldn't they see that? But it was no use arguing and she was tired again and so she nodded, once – curtly – and soon she was asleep but it was not restful.

Pomfrey woke her up early, only a few hours later.

"I thought you might want a proper bath." she said. Hermione did and so she leaned heavily onto the stout strength of Poppy Pomfrey into the bathroom where there were a few secluded tubs for the long term infirmary resident such as herself. Pomfrey started the tap and the tub filled with nothing but clean, clear hot water. "I've seen it all, dear, no need to be modest with me." she said when Hermione hesitated in taking off the simple cotton nightgown she wore which she was sure was in dire need of a cleaning as well. She nodded and pulled the garment off and turned and screamed a little. She'd caught sight of her self in the mirror and thought it was a stranger. For one, all her hair had been cut off, cropped close to her head. Her hand reached up to touch the curls so close to her scalp now. It was one way of controlling the mass of hair, she supposed.

"It's so short." she said.

"Yes, easier to deal with on a long term basis." Pomfrey said unapologetically. She was practical, of course, like Hermione herself. She was standing unabashedly naked, watching herself in the mirror. She'd lost so much weight that she looked like a strong wind might just take her away. She'd never been able to see her ribs with such clarity; her hip bones had never been so angular before. Her skin was sallow. Her skin was dry and scaly. She turned slowly to look at her back where the ax had been. There was a long, angry scar now marring her once flawless back. It was bright red and almost six inches long. "That will fade and there are things to help it along." the mediwitch said. "Don't worry dear; the human body is quite resilient. Into the bath now." she said but her voice lost the bossy edge and she was a bit more gentle with the girl then she might have been. Hermione simply sat in the bath, a little in shock, while Pomfrey washed her skin and her short, boyish hair and dried her off with a charm and dressed her in a new, similar nightgown and a thick, quilted robe to preserve her modesty for when she left the safe walls of the infirmary.

Hermione was tired and limping a bit on her left side. She didn't mention it, though, and when they went back into the main room, Dumbledore was waiting. She felt like she could face anything. She was going to see Severus! He was alive! A little worse for the wear, perhaps, but then so was she. She smiled bravely at Dumbledore who took her arm and helped out the door and towards the dungeons.

"Remember my warnings." he said.

"Did you tell him I was awake? Does he know that I'm coming?" she asked, a little hurt he'd not come to see her. If it were the other way around, she would have rushed to his bedside the moment she heard he was awake but she tried very hard not to place blame. Severus was different, reserved, austere and it was part of what attracted him to her. They would get through this. They had to. They'd gone so far already.

"I told him. He… didn't want you to see him hurt." Dumbledore said. "I told him not to be selfish."

"He didn't want to see me?" she asked.

"He did want to see you. He's a proud man, though." he consoled her. Hermione decided to just let the situation speak for itself. She was out of breath when they finally arrived at the dungeons, standing in front of his door. "I'll leave you here." he said.

"You aren't coming in?" she asked, suddenly afraid.

"I think it would be best for you to go in alone. Just floo me when you're ready to go back to the infirmary." he said. "Poppy will start to fret if you're gone too long." He leaned in and kissed her cheek and he smelled of peppermint and sugar. She never knew either of her grandfathers but she felt that if she did have one he would have been something like Dumbledore.

"What if…?" she said, holding him back. "What if it is too different?"

"Hermione, you were sick for nearly five months. It's going to be different. It won't be easy but then, you've always been able to do anything you've set your mind to, so I'm not worried. Go on, go in." he said and she watched him recede down the dark hallway before she knocked on the door. She heard his voice – gruff –bidding her to enter. She pushed the door open, clutching her robe tightly. She wished that she looked beautiful but she knew half-way decent was just beyond her grasp at the moment.

He was there, sitting in his favorite winged back chair facing the fire, with a blanket over his lap. She had a sudden flash of images: him in the moonlight, him in muggle London, him in Italy, making love to her in a pool… Now he wasn't even rising to meet her. She wanted to appear just as uninterested – just as cool as he was being now but she found herself tripping over herself to get to him, to stand in his line of vision at least.

"Severus…" she said, but didn't touch him, didn't throw herself into his arms like she had planned. He looked gaunt and unnatural. He wasn't dead but he could have passed as a corpse with little effort. The tan she remembered him having was gone now and his skin was pale and yellow like he'd not seen the sun in a long time. His hair had been hacked back to chin length and was greasy once more though not from brewing, she supposed, but neglect. His eyes had dark circles beneath them – lack of sleep – and she could see a walking stick leaning next to him on the chair. He back was hunched and there was a glass of strong alcohol in his hand. He met her gaze briefly and then turned his head away so his hair hung down, obscuring his face.

"I didn't want you to see me like this." he said, softly. She felt righteous, indignant anger welling up inside.

"Are you even happy to see me? I thought you were dead!" she said, not in the mood to pity him when she was just as bad.

"Perhaps that would have been better." he said. She threw up her hands in exasperation. "I can't… I can't brew. I'm a potion masters who can't make potions." he tried to explain.

"Yes, and I got an ax in the back, Severus. We've all had a bad go of it." she snarled. "It was good to see you, too." She felt utterly betrayed by him. He'd not even touched her, told her he was happy to see her. He didn't even tell her 'hello'. She turned and left the room. He didn't call after her. She didn't go back to the infirmary but headed straight to the staff quarters. She assumed her rooms were still there even though someone else was obviously teaching transfiguration by now. She would find out. She passed a group of students – first years by the looks of them – who jumped back at the crazy, short haired woman limping by them in a bathrobe and they startled her. School, right. She'd have to remember. The portrait of the dancing couple was still there and still opened for her and inside were all her things. Her bags from her visit home were still unpacked and there were letters and get well cards on the coffee table. She brushed by them, and threw herself on the bed even though the force jarred her so badly that all the pain that had been fading came back anew. She felt the tears come and she let them. She sobbed for the better part of an hour. She cried for herself – for the pain. She cried for the end of an era, the end of a war she was still desperate to know the details of. She cried for the way Severus had treated her, how what they had so precious and new was lost. She cried for Harry who hadn't made it through the war after all. He was the boy who lived to die for them all. Finally, feeling drained, she fell asleep curled into a ball feeling ugly and unwanted.

It was hours later when she woke – the light was different. She didn't know what woke her at first but then she heard the foreign noise. Thunk – clunk – stomp. Thunk – clunk – stomp. Someone (or thing) was in her rooms, coming towards the bedrooms. She sat up hoping fleetingly that whatever it was was coming to kill her. Then she felt mad at her self and became determined not to think like that, not to stew in self-pity like Snape.

He was there. Standing, heavily on his walking stick in her doorframe. The clunking she'd heard was him depending on a stick of black wood for mobility. He looked tired and his face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She rose swiftly to help him ignoring her own weakness. He held up his hand to stop her.

"I owe you an apology." he said, breathing heavily. "I came to tell you that I'm sorry which is something that is rarely heard coming from me." She stared at him, unsure if she was willing to accept his apology. "I missed you so desperately. You weren't waking up. The first few months you were in St. Mungo's. You had spinal injuries. At first, they thought you'd never walk again. Finally, they moved you here. They'd done everything they could and everything else was up to you. All you had to do was wake up and the longer you stayed in your coma, the more unlikely your waking up was. Then, a few weeks ago, Poppy said you were showing signs of life but I'd already… I'd given up already. I couldn't take anymore false hope. Now, here you are alive and I keep thinking – one false move and you'll be snatched away and I think if that should happen I really would die." She was surprised at the length and honesty of this confession.

"I didn't want to wake up." she admitted. "I thought you'd already died. I thought I might have killed you myself."

"Why ever would you think that?" he asked.

"I was taking out death eaters. I didn't see you so I assumed you must have been in your robes and…" she shrugged. "I still have no idea what happened, really."

"I'd like to show you something." he said, motioning her closer. She approached tentatively and he rolled up his left sleeve to the forearm. Where the dark mark had once been now was just an ugly, circular scar. The skin was ruined forever and was unattractive, yes, but there was no more mark and that in itself was beautiful. "When Harry sacrificed himself it burned off completely. I was unconscious, luckily. I wasn't in death eater robes. You didn't kill me." he said. "I'd already fallen when you arrived." She touched the scar lightly, the first contact they had in months. He took her hand and pulled her against him, crushing her body to his. She breathed deeply, letting him hold her.


	8. eight

So what could they do but start again? Because it wasn't the same, not really, and so they couldn't just pick up where they left off. After that day, that first day, Poppy had come and scolded them both into submission so Severus had left – clunking away dejectedly – and Hermione persuaded her to let her stay in her own rooms. But everything little thing exhausted her and what little muscle she had was gone. She spent a lot of time in bed and worked a little day to build up her endurance. Severus came once a day and read to her, or shared tea, or some days, on good days after the weather broke, they would go for walks. 

He was there with her when she finally tackled the pile of mail that sat getting stale in her room. Many were get well cards – from the Weasleys who were undoubtedly mourning Harry's death – from Remus Lupis and many other order members. A nice note from Neville and a few from some other underclassmen who she'd tutored or befriended through out her years at Hogwarts. Then, there was the stack of letter's from her parents. They looked utterly out of place with their carefully addressed envelopes and little square stamps in the upper right hand corner. They mailed the letters to a company that would then send it owl post. It wasn't as if Hogwarts had an address that some muggle postman could find on a map and even if he did stumble by all he would see would be a dilapidated castle in the distance. She opened her parent's letters – the first demanding to know why she'd missed her weekly owl post date. Next, a note of apology and worry when they'd heard the news. Her father demanded that they be allowed to visit her at the hospital or at the school or where ever they were keeping her.

"Did they come?" she asked but Severus shook his head sadly.

"Muggles can't come here." he said but she knew that. "Albus met with them."

"The headmaster went to my parent's house?" she asked. It was an absurd idea and she imagined it would play out like a scene from a situation comedy on the television – a laugh track whenever Dumbledore did something her parents found odd. Meaning constant, uproarious laughter, of course.

The last letter was a goodbye letter. It was heartbreaking.

"Someone told them I came to, right?" she asked and he nodded though he didn't tell her who and he waited silently for over an hour while she wrote a long, long letter back to them and sent it away on a school owl. "Where is Hedwig?" she asked, as an after thought.

"Who?"

"Hedwig. Harry's owl. The white one." she asked, suddenly desperate to know the location of the loyal bird. "In fact, where are all of Harry's things?"

"With Weasley, I imagine." he said, reaching out to her for she was getting a frantic look in her eyes – like she was trapped and he wanted her to sit back down because she was pacing and he couldn't pace anymore because his hips hurt. He missed pacing. He waited another half an hour while she wrote the Burrow.

When the relationship had started, it had been student-teacher and then illicit and then, just as they'd started to approach normal, the war took everything. Hermione started thinking of what happened as a chance for a fresh start. To get to know each other without breaking any rules. He was undemanding. He concentrated on her health. Getting her stronger, getting her to eat and put on a little weight. Hermione had never been muscular or athletic. She was a bookworm. She'd been thin, yes, but soft and yielding. Her hips and tummy had soft curves and that had been Snape's favorite part. Now she was skin and bones, her clothes didn't fit her. She was always cold. He was tired a lot as well. His hips ached and Poppy had him in physical therapy to improve his dexterity. They both were getting stronger but their moods improved only slightly. It was Hermione who finally voiced the opinion he'd been holding back from her.

"I don't think that staying in this castle is helping me." she said. "I'm not doing anything here. I'm not productive." She said this, standing in doorway to his bathroom after just having a bath. She had a white towel wrapped around her and he could see her bony shoulders and her hair which was starting to grow back was dripping and the drops of water were traveling down, leaving trails of moisture on her skin – like porcelain. She was pigeon toed which was – he thought – totally against the grain of her character but was endearing nonetheless. The first time he'd seen the angry scar on her back, she'd jumped and tried to hide it from him but he'd held her down roughly knowing she wasn't strong enough to fight him off and inspected it to his heart's content. She'd been furious and tearful but he didn't want her to be ashamed and he gave her salve to apply every day and the scar looked lighter now.

"Where would you go?" he asked and her face fell. He understood – it sounded like he wouldn't go with her.

"I'm not sure." she said. "Wherever I got a job."

"I don't want to be presumptuous in thinking if you left that…" he said. "I won't follow you if you don't want me to."

"I don't want you to follow me Severus." she said, cold now, tired of being damp in nothing but the towel.

"I see." He thought he could hear his heart breaking. The sound of it hitting cement and then someone grinding the pieces into dust with the heel of their shoe.

"I want you to want to come. I want us to go together." He released the breath he'd been holding and suddenly felt like laughing.

"Pathetic." he mumbled picking up her robe and tossing it to her.

"What is?"

"Me. I used to be… solitary. I used to be feared and a force to be reckoned with and now I know that I would follow you around like a puppy if you asked me to. What did you do to me, woman?" she smiled softly and shrugged.

They packed everything. All the books, the potion ingredients that were solely Snape's, his clothes, her clothes, pictures, shampoo, shoes, candles, dinnerware, quills, scarves, hair elastics (unneeded for the moment), and every spare bit of parchment that they owned. All their things were jumbled together in unlabeled boxes (so unlike them both but that was them before and this was them after) and they sent all the things along to the Italian house (all thought that was the before them as well and neither would be happy there and eventually Snape would buy a home for them in England, near the water) and they put on their nice clothes and went to see Hermione's parents.

She had imagined this meeting once before, fleetingly, and then scoffed at the mental picture because she knew it would never happen. Now, she was compulsively smoothing her black skirt and plucking the fuzz off that green silk blouse that was just now fitting again and Severus was next to her on the sunny porch with wicker furniture, leaning heavily on his cane in his black trousers and a black, muggle, button down shirt that she'd gotten for him and he'd not complained when he put it on. She'd, before they'd left, sat him on the closed toilet and brushed his wet hair and trimmed all the jagged edges with a pair of scissors and now his hair was neat and shiny and they'd both gotten their color back and suddenly they weren't weak or sick or recovering anymore. They were just two people in a very unstable but real love waiting to meet the parents. She glanced up at him when she rung the bell and his twitched his lips into a brief ghost of a smile and this relaxed her enough so that when her parents flung the door open, she could greet them with open arms.

Her parents were so happy to see her alive that it took them close to five minutes before they noticed Severus on the porch watching the gratuitous display of love with a somewhat detached interest. Her father gave him a once over but shook his hand and invited him in the modest two story home. Severus stepped in and Hermione clicked the door shut behind him.

"This is my mother, Doris, and my father, Charles. Mum, dad, Severus Snape." she said and the whole thing felt wrong and awkward – two worlds never meant to collide. It was Bruce Wayne standing in the same room as bat man. It was a sight she never thought she'd see.

"Nice to meet you." they all murmured and Severus looked ridiculously out of place in the home with all its light colors and soft fabrics. He was too tall and too dark and her mother was staring at him like he was about to pull a rabbit out of a hat and she wanted to be prepared. But they'd both put their wands away and wouldn't take them out unless it was a life or death situation. Doing magic in front of muggles, even muggles who knew, was simply too much paper work to be worth it.

They sat in the living room and drank tea and Hermione told them skewed half truths about her accident and recovery. She told them about Harry and they were sad for her though they'd met him only briefly on shopping trips to Diagon alley but even then, by her third year she'd learned to do her shopping on her own. Her parents asked him questions about potions which he answered tactfully – "It's like muggle chemistry" – even though he couldn't brew with the precision he once could. They asked about his parents – "Dead" – and what he liked about Hermione.

"She is very intelligent and compassionate and has a most respectable work ethic." he said, and glanced at her. "I also think she's pretty." This seemed to please her parents who asked them to stay the night, at least, because they must have traveled so far already and left so early to get there at the time that they did. Hermione didn't bother to explain apparition or magical travel and so they said, yes, they would spend one night and her mother left to make lunch and her father had to go into the office – "Dentist?" Severus asked, confused – and she showed him her bedroom. He laughed when he saw it.

"It's so childish." he said, picking up a stuffed bear and examining it carefully.

"I was a child here." she reminded him and looked at the small bed. "I'll have to transfigure that." she murmured. He nodded. "Thank you for coming here."

"Your parents seem very nice." he said dutifully. "My parents didn't like me and we had a house so large that no one ever had to see anyone except for at meals and this house is very, very different to me." he explained. "No matter. How are you feeling?"

"Just fine." she said, because he was helping calm her nerves. She took out her wand and enlarged the bed – "_Engorgio_," – and they laid on the bed together until her mother called for lunch up the stairs.

The day was uneventful. Hermione's mother seemed to be a little frightened of Severus and treated Hermione like she was about to break. Severus busied himself reading while Hermione helped her mother in the garden. Soon, her father came home and they played a game of bridge together, after Hermione had explained it to Severus. He'd picked it up quick and though they didn't win, he seemed to be fairly comfortable with her family, muggles though they were. After dinner, they escaped upstairs, feigning fatigue. Truthfully, Hermione was tired but she wasn't really sleepy. It was nice to be alone with Severus and not worried about what her parents might say or do next. At least they'd not brought out baby pictures or home movies of her getting a bath. If she'd brought Ron home or – heaven – even Victor it may have been different but Severus was not a boyfriend, he was a lover. He was not a boy, but a man. And after that last battle and months of recovery, there was nothing childish left about Hermione Granger.

Now, in the small bedroom made even smaller by the enlarged bed, they rummaged through their luggage for their night things. Severus had never really spent any time in a muggle home and tried not to show his surprise at the smallest things, like lamps lit by tugging a chain or the blender or how the starting on car engines punctuated the still night air every so often. Hermione pulled her high necked flannel nightgown out of her bag and Severus eyed it with disgust. He _hated _that nightgown, though he understood while she wore it. Hermione, when'd she'd finally gotten around to wearing clothes to bed with him, wore these strappy silk numbers that he'd simply adored. This nightgown left everything to the imagination and covered the scar that dissected her shoulder blades. He could tell she wasn't feeling very attractive lately with her marred skin and boyish hair cut. He didn't know how to tell her she would always be sexy no matter what. The hair cut actually suited her – she had a lovely neck.

Tonight had been trying, though, and he couldn't stand that nightgown for one moment more. He startled her snatching it out of her hands but he shot her a look daring her to say anything and she remained silent as he transfigured it into something much more pleasing. She took it quietly and held it up to her, black satin with spaghetti straps – it would barely cover her bum.

"Better." he said and she looked for a moment as if she might cry but swallowed it back and smiled weakly at him. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead, her cheekbones, her nose, her lips. They'd not made love since their tumultuous reunion. At first they'd been to sick, weak, and tired and now they were both so scared of breaking the fragile relationship. It would never be as it had been, but they didn't know where else it could go just yet. He was kissing her now, though, and not in the soft, unsure way his kisses had been lately. This kiss was much more… _Severus_. He was rough and demanding, forcing is tongue into her mouth and letting his hands roam freely. The new nightgown was forgotten and was soon hidden under a pile of their clothing. A muggle house was no place for silencing charms and so she stifled her giggles, then her moans, and then her screams into the pale skin of his shoulder.

After, tucked into his arm feeling warm and sated, she turned her head up to look at him.

"Do you still love me?" she asked, quietly, because she could hear her father watching TV in his study and her mother down the hall in the master bedroom.

"I never stopped." he assured her. This seemed to appease her and it wasn't long until she fell asleep. A few hours later, she woke up again, alone in the bed. After waiting a few minutes – he could be in the loo – she put on the black nightgown and transfigured her robe to match, intent on finding Snape. Her father had always been somewhat of an insomniac and so she wasn't surprised to see soft light coming from the living room. She could hear her father talking and when she heard Severus talking she stopped and sat near the top of the stairs too curious to hear what they were talking about to interrupt them.

"She seems different. Like she lost her determination, her drive." her father was saying, now and Hermione felt tears spring up behind her eyes. Was it that obvious?

"The war was… well. I'm afraid Hermione hasn't been as truthful with you as she could have been. The war is nearly a decade old and she was hurt very badly." he said but her father didn't seem surprised.

"I knew when the letter came that we were giving our daughter up for the greater good, to that school but…" his voice faltered. "And what of you, Mr. Snape?"

"What of me?" Severus asked, softly. "I plan to leave the school permanently and to marry your daughter, if you'll let me." Hermione was shocked to hear it. "I am a man of considerable wealth, Mr. Granger, and Hermione will have the best of everything. She'll be able to pursue any scholarly endeavors she wants." Not needing to hear anymore, Hermione crept back up to bed and fell asleep for the first time in a long time without a worry or a care in the world.

* * *

**a/n**: short chapter everyone, but i thought i'd post what i have in celebration of clawing my way out of a pile of school work. i think maybe one or two more chapters and i'll be done. anyone still reading this :)  



	9. nine

In the morning, they dressed and packed and shrunk their luggage and Hermione's mother offered to take them all out to breakfast. 

"I don't know," Hermione said, glancing at Severus. She remembered going to a Muggle restaurant with him once before but that was just the two of them and Sunday morning breakfast meant many more screaming children.

"Hermione, love, though I am not the most educated man when it comes to Mug – when it comes to the non-magical community, I assume that the rules are still basically the same? Don't eat with your hands and tip the waiter?" he asked in a tone that was much more Professor Snape than she was used to these days. "I would love to go to breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Granger." he said smoothly and Hermione blushed. She'd embarrassed herself, really.

Hr mother chose a nice restaurant that they'd often frequented because it was near the church. In the garden the day before, Hermione's mother had asked if she'd wanted to go to church in the morning. She couldn't imagine Severus setting foot inside a church of any sort (Pagan or otherwise) and politely declined for the both of them. Now, she saw a few familiar faces from the congregation but Severus was so intimidating – even when he was trying to be polite and kind – that no one approached them. Hermione had never been a breakfast person, tea and toast was more her style. She didn't like that overly full feeling at all and it was no way to start her day, full of greasy meat and dairy products. She was just going to order a scone perhaps or a bowl of porridge but when the waiter came, Severus ordered eggs and bacon and toast and fruit for the both of them. She bit her tongue while they young man took their order and then turned to him ready to smack him across the back of his head – a gesture she usually saved for Ron Weasley.

"I implore you to not make a scene." he said, quietly, while she was still gathering the breath she would use to yell at him with. "You're all angles and you need to eat because I've been watching you and don't think I haven't noticed the way you push food around your plate." She stopped, her steam suddenly gone. Her parents watched with interest. Hermione had always been bossy and had never liked to stop doing whatever held her fancy to eat or sleep or shop. It'd always been a struggle to get her to eat properly and therefore she'd often been underweight and the only time she ate willingly was when it affected her ability to think. Now with all eyes on her she sucked in her cheeks angrily but said nothing.

"Good heavens, Mr. Snape, we could have used you when she was a child." her mother said, laughing a bit. Then there was an awkward pause as everyone internally acknowledged that when Hermione was being a petulant child, Severus was already an adult.

"Please, call me Severus." he said, gently, not for the first time and draped his arm over the back of Hermione's chair. She glared at him but didn't push his arm away and when the food came, she ate over half of what was in front of her. They didn't need to go back to the house and so they made another gratuitous display of affection in the parking lot and Severus was glad he didn't have to get back into the automobile again. He thought it was a metal box of death – an accident waiting to happen and most people wouldn't disagree. Hermione's parents kissed her and made her promise to visit more thoroughly when they got settled together. Severus shook her father's hand and hugged her mother awkwardly. They waved as her parents drove away and then stood looking at each other in the parking lot.

"What do you wish to do now, my love?" he asked, watching her face struggle with emotions – missing her family but the relief they were on their own again.

"I thought we might go shopping in London, if that's all right with you." she said. "I've not been to Diagon alley in ages." she cocked her head, "Since my NEWTs, I believe."

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised looking for all the world as if he was plotting something. "All right." they went back into the restaurant and snuck together into the ladies room, leaving the door unlocked and apparated away. (Later, in a line seven people deep, the manager red faced and tired on a Sunday morning knocked politely on the door. Garnering no response, he tried the handle and found the room empty, confounding several witnesses who claimed they saw the couple enter and never leave.)

Now, safely in the wizard part of London, they browsed shops, mostly window shopping more than anything else. They went into the book store for an hour or so but didn't end up buying anything and then stopped for lunch and finally, walking past the jewelry store, Severus touched her arm and said softly,

"Let's go in." She looked at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise on her face. He didn't know that she'd overheard him speaking with her father about marriage and she didn't want him to know that she knew.

"All right." she said and he held the door open for her. The shop was empty but soon enough a man emerged from a back room and offered his assistance which Severus waved off for the moment. Hermione stood awkwardly in the middle of the room while Severus circled slowly; looking intently into all the glass cases until he found something he fancied and motioned her towards him.

"What of that one?" he asked, pointing towards a ring with a silver band and a square cut diamond that was rather large.

"It's beautiful." she agreed.

"Do you want it?" he asked.

"Severus, that's an engagement ring." she said. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes." he said, patiently.

"Well, you've not even asked me." she said, though what did she expect of him? Bended knee? Roses? Hardly. He looked impatient now.

"Isn't this quite the same?" he asked, pointing to the ring.

"I suppose," she said.

"Good, then. Have a look around and see if there is something better but I think this suits you quite well." he said, standing back and watching for the shop keep who appeared as soon as he was needed. Hermione shook hear head.

"That one is more then fine." she said and the man nodded and took it out of the case, handing it to her. She slid it on and it shrunk to fit her finger perfectly. Sometimes, she loved magic. Severus took out his wand and paid for the ring and then took her hand to inspect it.

"Beautiful." he said. He looked up at her. "The ring, too." He led her numbly out of the shop, looking at her hand.

"Wait a minute, what just happened?" she asked. "Are we getting married?"

He drummed his fingers against the small of her back as he led her out of a throng of people to a clearing where they could apparate without risk of splicing themselves in the process.

"Yes." he answered. "Shall we return to Italy?"

"Severus, the one person I told about us was Harry and he's dead now. How is this going to… I mean, do we have a wedding? Or… how do wizards get married? And I've not even seen Ron or the Weasleys… I don't…" she said, sitting down on a bench nearby while she caught her breath. He kissed her head, her cheek, and let her be silent. Her wheels were turning.

In Italy, she unpacked while he went to town to gather supplies and do whatever it was he did when she wasn't with him. She unpacked quickly – she used magic which was not her style as it tended to wrinkle more then not – and wrote a quick note and left it on the mirror in the bathroom. He returned home and called her name a few times, a little mystified when he didn't receive a prompt reply. He wandered around and pulled out his wand just in case. All the suitcases were empty and the clothes hung in the closet. He poked his head in the bathroom and saw the piece of parchment charmed to the mirror. He snatched it down and read it, her script tidy and too familiar.

_Severus –_

_I've gone to the Weasleys for a few days. I'm not leaving you, please don't overreact. I just wanted to show them the ring and tell them the news in person. I love you,_

_Hermione_

He crumpled the piece of parchment in his fist and sighed. He, of course, would have to go after her and spend a miserable, undetermined amount of time with Molly and Arthur Weasley and all their sniveling children. He paused, smoothing the note out and reading it again. He would give her a day or two and then he would go.

The Burrow looked just the same. Still teetering and ramshackle, it looked like a stern _Finite Incantatum_ would bring the house to ruins. She felt immediately guilty that she'd waited so long to come see them; to come see Ron. Harry's death still seemed somewhat unreal to her but Ron had lived months with it already. She'd received a few owls from Mrs. Weasley telling her that everyone was okay – Ron had been scheduled to start auror training in the fall but decided to take a year off of school and Ginny was at her last year of Hogwarts. Hermione hadn't seen her, hadn't thought, but then she'd done well to avoid the students.

She straightened her shoulders and went to knock on the kitchen door. She could see Mrs. Weasley cleaning up from either lunch or breakfast over the sink. She turned to see who was at the door and her face melted into a smile.

"Hello, dear, I was hoping you'd come." she said, but not in quite the same excited, bustling way Hermione was used to. She seemed a little too tired.

"I didn't owl ahead, but, I wanted to surprise you, I guess." she said, hugging the plump witch fondly.

"This is just fine. It's good to see you up and around. You're so thin." she said, already fretting. "We came and saw you at St. Mungo's and then again at Hogwarts but we were so afraid… well, that's all past now." Mrs. Weasley took both of her hands and gave them a squeeze. "You can tell me all about that ring after you go see Ron." she whispered and pointed up the stairs.

"Ron." she said, feeling scared all of a sudden.

"He's been unwell since Harry died. It will be good for him to see you." Mrs. Weasley said, giving her a push. She took the stairs two at a time and found herself swiftly outside Ron's firmly closed door. She knocked and was told to go away but entered anyway.

"I said, I'm not hungry, Mum." he said. He was facing the window, sitting on a wooden chair that Hermione recognized as belonging to the kitchen table downstairs.

"Ron, it's me." she said, and he turned around and looked her up and down.

"Oh. Hullo." She had a flash of memory – Snape's utter lack of excitement at seeing her awake and upright for the first time in months – and she felt the anger flair. She was tired of everything being hard and sad and this wasn't where she thought she would be at this time in her life. Perpetually picking up the pieces.

"I wanted to come see you." she said, flatly. "Make sure you were still alive and to show you that I was still alive, too." He didn't respond, just pulled his robe more tightly against him. "I'm getting married." she said.

"What?" he asked and she felt a little smug seeing the surprise in his face. "To who?"

"Snape." she said, deciding that calling him Severus would be too shocking in Ron's fragile state. She also decided to leave out the affair with him before graduation completely.

"WHAT?" he repeated, standing up and walking over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I thought that was a rumor!"

"It's true." she said, showing him the ring. "And I would appreciate if you were happy for us." Ron looked a little green but nodded. The old Ron would have never given in so easily and Hermione hugged him lightly. "I'm sorry I couldn't be with you when… after the… you know, with Harry." she said.

He stiffened and drew away. "I thought you were going to die too." he said.

"So they tell me."

"You look really different." he added. "Why did you come here?"

"I was worried about you. I hadn't heard from you." she said. "Would you like me to go?"

He thought about it for a while. "No, I'd like you to stay." he said.

"All right." she said. He sat back in his chair and she sat down on his bed and they watched the landscape until – two days in – Severus came.

Hermione had let Ron call the shots. Mostly they stayed in his room and didn't talk. She got him to start eating downstairs with his parents which was a step in the right direction and they went for a walk every once in a while but mostly they stayed upstairs and said very little and sometimes Ron would get very angry and start to cry which made Hermione cry and she realized, abruptly, that Harry wasn't going to come back. She'd come to the Burrow to put things into perspective and to help Ron but instead she was letting his depression overtake her – she was mourning Harry's death in a most unhealthy way.

Ron was asleep on his twin bed when Hermione saw Severus coming up the front walk of the Burrow. She was in the uncomfortable chair at the window and she spun the engagement ring around and around on her finger, biting her lip. He looked a little irritated and he wore his black teaching robes which billowed ominously behind him in a way that still gave her a little stab of irrational fear. She'd known three Snape's since her time at Hogwarts; The frightening professor, the loving professor, and her fiancé. The one approaching her now was definitely the first.

Arthur Weasley had left for work and Hermione vaguely recalled Molly calling up the stairs about the market or some other errand – regardless, Ron and herself were the only people home. She heard his rapping on the door and then she heard him open it. She could hear him stalking around the small, cozy home and then his feet on the stairs. It was only a matter of time before he found them. She jumped with the knob to Ron's door turned slowly with a light creak and then the door was open and he was standing there glaring at the both of them.

"Shhh," she said, putting a finger to her lips and motioning towards the sleeping boy. Man, now, she supposed. But Ron hadn't been sleeping well at all and she didn't want to rob him of the few hours he would get today. Snape, looking even more upset, pointed out the door and Hermione, not in the mood to argue, stood and padded out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She looked frightful compared to his perfectly tailored black robes. She was in a pair of old jean cut offs and one of Mrs. Weasley's sweaters – belonging to either Ginny or George, she wasn't sure – and her hair was beginning to grow out in earnest now so it was wildly protruding from her head and the ensemble was topped off by a big pair of wooly socks that she'd knitted herself. He followed her downstairs and when they stood in the living room he looked her top to bottom and shook his head as if to say that she would never do.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, finally.

"I left you a note…"

"I got your bloody note." he snarled. "It's not like you to just up and leave like that."

"Ron needed me." she said.

"You couldn't give me the courtesy of a goodbye?" he asked, tired, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I had to come here to fetch you?"

"I told you I would be home in a few days." she said. "In the note."

"Yes, yes, the note." he said. "I was tired of waiting. Have you helped Weasley?"

"I think so." she said, uncertainly.

"Then you can return to Italy with me." he said.

"So soon?" she asked. "I don't think he's ready."

"It looks like he's dragging you down with him, not you pulling him up, Hermione." he said, his voice losing its sharp edge. She couldn't argue with his assessment because she'd drawn the same conclusion her self so she just stood there and looked miserable. He sighed and opened his arms. She hugged him tightly and he patted her back lightly. "What's wrong, love?" Ahhh, there was her Snape.

"I miss Harry and Ron is sad and I don't know how to fix any of it." she sobbed into his chest.

"It's not something you can fix." he told her. "He needs time. So do you. The war is fresh, the whole world is still reeling. The most we can do is to keep on living."

"I'm trying to do that." she said. "But I don't think Ron knows how. And, and, Mrs. Weasley just lets him sit up there all day and mope."

"Perhaps he ought to leave this place, then." Severus suggested, knowing that _he_ could never stand a place like the Burrow even in his most stable state of mind.

"Severus!" she exclaimed, stepping back and getting that expression she got when she just realized something incredible. He found that look of brilliance most delectable. "You're absolutely right!" He wasn't sure to what she was agreeing but he was pleased to see she'd stopped crying. "Ron'll love your manor and Italy will be just the relief he needs!" she said and shot upstairs to wake and inform Ron. Snape's mouth fell open. That wasn't what he'd meant _at all._


	10. ten

They put Ron in different wing, but still. Hermione had bolted up stairs to tell Ron, leaving him speechless on unmatched rugs and then, to make matters worse, Molly Weasley came home while he was standing there with his jaw practically resting on his well-polished shoes and she invited him to stay for dinner and took his inability to respond as a yes. Soon, he found himself sitting around her wooded table with three of the Weasleys in no time at all, Hermione squeezing his leg under the table with Molly looking pleased, Ron looking confused, and Arthur doing a poor job of hiding his suspicion. 

Then, after some really good chicken, Hermione packed up Ron's things and then they climbed into the fireplace and flooed the uncomfortably long distance to his manor. Ron seemed to understand what was happening less than Severus him self but that did little to comfort him. Hermione looked as cheerful as he'd seen in a while now that she had a project. It took Ron forever to finally lose that glaze over his eyes and say, "Wait, hold on..." but he was too far in and there was little he could do but hold on.

Severus wanted to give him the help's house where they flooed into but Hermione glared that option away and so Severus stopped making suggestions and left her to her own devices while he went into the wine cellar to find a bottle of whiskey he knew he'd stored down there once for an occasion such as this. He brought two cups up, and then three in case he wanted to sedate Hermione later, and sat in the kitchen and when a house elf scurried by, he ordered dinner to be served in the formal dining room from now on, starting tomorrow. Company was company, after all, he thought. He poured a tall drink. Slytherins had manners, even in the face of two Gryffindors half his age.

He moved to his study and worked on the article he'd been writing about his and Hermione's early work the time turning potion. He'd progressed a lot while she was in her coma, having nothing to fill the void in his life with but research. He'd not tested it but he'd already sold the early rights to an enormous potions company located in America while still retaining the right to work on the potion himself. He'd nearly doubled his already enormous wealth by doing so. He'd not told Hermione but he would. She knocked on his door a while later.

"I put him in one of the guest rooms, the blue and while one over looking the tennis courts." she said from the doorway.

"That will be fine." he said. "However, I don't intend my house to be his personal day spa. He did not come here to wallow in a different environment. You will put him to work or I will."

"That is what I hoped would happen." she said. "I know you'd probably prefer never to see Ron again but he's my friend and I think I need him as much as he needs me right now."

"Whatever you wish, dear." he said, dryly and she smacked his arm lightly. "I told the elves – dinner is to be formal from now on." he added and she rolled her eyes but indulged him as he was indulging her.

"I'm going to start planning the wedding." she said, a little uncertainly. "Is there anything particular that you want or something I ought to know that I don't?"

"There are people to hire to help you with this." he told her. She rolled her eyes.

"That's a waste of money." she said.

"Hermione, love, we have money to waste. Hiring a witch will assure that you don't miss any details from either tradition." he said. She knew he was trying to appeal to her sense of logic but he was right and so she nodded and he told her he'd get her a name by morning.

Hermione watched Ron sleep three days later. It was 2:47 in the afternoon and nearly every time she came to his room, he was asleep in the bed. She'd given him the room that was decorated all in blue and white stripes, with light hardwood floors and a twin bed. He'd just left his trunk in the middle of the floor and its contents were starting to creep out across the room. The only time he was out of bed was to use the bathroom or when Severus insisted he come to the formal dinners he'd started having. Even then, he looked rumpled in his robes and his eyes had a glassy look. He was unresponsive at best. Now, she watched him determined to get him out of bed and back into the world of living. Harry had done the same sort of thing after they'd lost Sirius but this was much worse and had lasted lots longer. Hermione did the same thing now that she did to Harry. She filled a large pitcher with water and charmed it to near freezing. Then, soundlessly, she dumped it over his sleeping head.

He sat up with a sputter and she thumped his back harder than strictly necessary while he coughed. Finally, he pulled himself out of the soggy bedclothes and glared at her.

"I get the point." he said and trudged into the bathroom leaving wet footprints behind him to shower and change. She cleaned the mess with a wave of the wand and went downstairs to wait for him. When he appeared in jeans and a white t-shirt with his red hair still damp, she went into the garden and he followed. They walked through the garden out into the vineyard. She wore a green apron of a sturdy material and a large brimmed straw hat to protect her skin from the sun. In the pocket of her apron was a pair of cutters and many green, plastic ties. "What are we doing out here, its bright." he complained.

"We're working outside. Here," she handed him the pliers and produced another pair for herself. "Cut off all of the larger leaves that are taking nutrients from the fruit." she ordered, clipping a few of the larger leaves from the top of the vine. Ron hadn't even noticed the small bunches of tiny green grapes at were beginning to form. He touched one gently. They were soft. "Then," she continued, "take the green ties and help coax the branches into the shape of the wire supports." she said. "Everything gets too garbled if you let it just naturally grow. It isn't efficient. But if you do it this way," she demonstrated by pulling a wayward branch and tying it securely to the wooden frame. "everything is neat and tidy and it makes harvest much easier."

Ron, unwilling to admit that the idea of a vineyard was rather interesting, looked at her with his hand to his eyes to block the sun. "Wouldn't this be easier with magic?" he asked.

"Ronald, sometimes it's better to do things the old fashioned way."

"Magic _is_ the old fashioned way." he said. "Wizards were mastering magic before muggles had even discovered the wheel."

"The hard way, then. It's better to do it, oh, just do what I say." She said and turned to her part of the vine. They worked quietly for a while.

"You don't expect us to do this whole vineyard, do you?" he asked, finally, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm and streaking dirt there.

"We'll start with the row just for today." she assured him for she was not impervious to the heat herself. "Isn't it nice to be outside?"

"I suppose." he said. The sun was a nice change from being indoors all the time. It was the first time he'd done something productive since Harry died. But that was the problem. He missed Harry when he was awake. He missed Harry and so all he wanted to do was go back to sleep where it was dark and quiet and it didn't hurt quite so badly.

Hermione paused in her snipping and tying when she noticed that Ron had froze – had stopped working and she caught his shoulders shaking out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, Ron." she said, setting her clippers down and taking his hand. There was nothing to say to soothe or console him for there were no words she could utter that would bring their best friend back. All that would help was the passing of time and perhaps days spent in the sun watching the grapes grow and ripen.

At dinner, Hermione and Severus chatted amiably and Ron, per usual, was mostly quiet until finally he looked up sheepishly and said, "What should I do about this sunburn?" His face was bright red – a red unlike the orangey hue of his ginger hair. This red was fierce and would peel something awful.

"Why didn't you do a sun protection charm?" asked Hermione.

"I'm English! What do I know about the sun?" he said, scratching his nose and then hissing at the pain.

"Professor Flitwick taught us in our first year…" but she trailed off catching her faux pas. Professor Flitwick was dead now and they tried not to talk about the war for now, while there was still healing. "They are easy." she said, "You two are just the same in some ways." Severus coughed a little, choking on a bite of asparagus, and Ron looked a little disgusted. Hermione pushed back from the table and went to fetch the aloe plant she'd retrieved for Severus so long ago. He looked at it unconvinced.

"Isn't there a charm or a potion or something?" he asked.

"Yes, but then how will you learn?" she said, sitting back down and resuming her dinner. Severus felt an unexpected empathy for the Weasley boy and tried to cover it by shoving his mouth full of food. "Severus, I was thinking that perhaps Ron could go into town with you tomorrow while I meet with the wedding coordinator." Both men groaned but did not protest. She smiled.

Hermione always rose unbearably early while Severus would have liked to spend the better morning hours in bed making love to her. But he usually stumbled into wakefulness hours after she'd gone leaving nothing but rumpled sheets and a few strands of hair behind her. This morning the heat woke him. He'd kicked off all of the covers and had already worked up a fine sheen of sweat. He rolled out of bed and looked at the clock – past ten. The wedding coordinator had been due at 9:00 and so Severus had no doubt that she'd come and now he and the future Mrs. Snape were out somewhere spending half his fortune on flowers and shoes.

He took a shower, a little on the cold side which felt nice, and considered, briefly, wearing shorts. But one look at his pale knobby knees and the thought of the look on Weasley's face if he showed any more skin then necessary made him cast a cooling charm on his black, linen slacks and dark green, long sleeved shirt. It wouldn't last very long, probably, but long enough. After this enforced play date with Weasley, all he planned to do was float around his pool and ponder life while Weasley crawled back into bed, miserable. Happy with the day's projection, he went to the kitchen to have a bit of toast and maybe an egg.

Ron was waiting for him in the kitchen, miserably pushing some porridge around in his bowl. Severus had hoped he'd not be out of bed yet but the boy was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and some beat up trainers. How classy. They looked at each other but said nothing. A short, burly elf brought breakfast to Severus and he ate it quickly and efficiently. He had a second cup of tea while he read over the Daily Prophet and finally looked up at Ron.

"When you finish your porridge, we'll go." he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Why do you care if I rot away?" he asked, every surly without Potter there to supply confidence.

"I care about what Hermione cares about." he said. "Now eat your bloody porridge and let's get on with it." The porridge in question was now cold and sticky and Severus watched Ron shove as much as it on to his spoon as he could – which was a lot – and shove the entire thing into his mouth. After three goes of this, the bowl was all but empty. If this had happened in the Great Hall not so many years ago, Snape would have been disgusted and perhaps assigned a detention with Filch but here he found it almost comical. He found a lot of things to be less dire these days.

"Done." Ron said. "Where to?"

"The muggle village." Snape said. "The bakery is better there." Ron shrugged and followed him out of the house and to a shed that was on the far side of the pool behind a green fence. "I bought these a few years ago when I found myself going to the muggle village more and more." he explained, opening the door to the shed with his wand. "It was too far to walk and too risky to apparate." Inside the shed were two silver vespas with helmets.

"Wicked," Ron said. "Are then enchanted like my dad's car?" he asked.

"No," Snape said drying, handing him a helmet. "They run on gasoline. I don't pretend to understand it but they make the trek to town much more enjoyable." After a quick lesson, they set off down the dirt road in the harsh sun, both having remembered their sun protection charm.

In London, the wedding coordinator had departed with another appointment scheduled for two weeks. She'd been undeniably good at her job but she was like if Professor McGonagall and Rita Skeeter had somehow produced an offspring. She was ridiculous and severe all at once. It was unsettling. Now she was in Muggle London to look at wedding dresses though the coordinator had informed her that if they were going to have a wedding that leaned towards the wizard traditions, a Muggle wedding dress would look far too formal and the white would be an unusual color choice. Hermione couldn't quite let go of the dream of the perfect wedding she'd had since she was a little girl, even if the groom was somewhat different than she'd expected. Perhaps if she found a dress that was understated enough. No beads or excess ribbon or fabric – simple and strapless. She could be happy with that.

She tried several dresses on and asked the store clerk to snap a few pictures with the camera so she could see them later. The shop girl, a muggle, happily obliged not knowing it was a wizarding camera and insisted she take several shots of each dress from different angles, even though in the picture, the Hermione would twirl accordingly no matter what the angle. Hermione couldn't really explain that, though, and so she just smiled and held her tongue.

In Diagon Alley, she decided to look in the bridal shop there. The gowns were very old fashioned, loose fitting robes. Not meant to be binding because one was supposed to be connected to nature – the ceremony was performed barefoot. The robes were lilac, periwinkle, there was an atrocious yellow one. She nearly bumped into Pansy Parkinson while reaching for the only white robe the store had.

"Granger?" Pansy asked, looking more than a little surprised.

"Hello, Pansy." Hermione replied but was suspicious. Why was she here? Draco and his lot were mostly all in Azkaban and the older generation of death eaters, Snape's generation, were for the most part dead, in hiding, or in prison as well. Hermione noticed her green apron and name tag. "You work here?"

"Yes," Pansy said though she looked loathe to admit it. "I'm an upstanding citizen, you know."

"I see." Hermione said, but she didn't.

"Not all of us Slytherins wanted you-know-who to win." she said, "It looks good if I live a clean life and have an honest job. I didn't do anything wrong but I doubt it would take much for me to land the cell next to Draco. I heard he cut you in two."

"Tried to." Hermione said. She still didn't trust Pansy. Pansy shrugged as if to say she didn't care for Hermione's trust anyhow.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy asked, moving the subject away from themes so touchy.

"I'm getting married." Hermione said, surprised she'd not heard. Lucius had assured them, what seemed like ages ago, that everyone would know about their affair.

"Congratulations." Pansy said. "The world will never be short of Weasleys." Hermione was confused for a moment. What did the Weasleys have to do with anything?

"You think I'm marrying Ron?" She asked, laughing. "No, no, Pansy, you really ARE out of the Slytherin inner circle. And here I thought you were their queen. I'm marrying Severus Snape."

"Professor Snape?" She asked, her eyes wide. "You?"

"Me. I'll be sure to invite you to the wedding now that I know you won't try to kill me during." she said. "I've got to run. We'll have tea sometime." And with that, Hermione left – a speechless Slytherin in her wake.


	11. eleven

They bought Malfoy Manor and gutted it. At first, Hermione had argued against the purchase, saying that the place was probably cursed into oblivion and the moment they set foot inside bad things would happen. Severus assured her that ministry officials had gone over and over the place and that removing some of the stronger wards would take time but was not impossible. It also set a good example, taking a place of pain and making it livable. All the Malfoys were in prison or dead and so the house went to the nearest living relative which was Tonks and she promptly sold it to Hermione and Severus at a very reasonable price with no questions asked. 

"I haven't been there since I was a child," she'd told them, "And I vowed never to go back. Awful people, the Malfoys. If I do ever return, I hope to hardly be able to recognize it."

"I don't think that will be a problem." Severus said, rolling up the deed and placing it in one of the many pockets deep inside his robes. Hermione missed England. She loved Italy in the summer time but now that winter had come, it was barren and it became obvious just how isolated the two of them were in that house. The Malfoy Manor, for all of its dubious history, was a beautiful home in the English country side – easy to apparate to wizard London or floo to Hogwarts or where ever with out it being so long and uncomfortable.

Severus' leg had healed to the point where he no longer had to use his cane and he only limped when the weather was cold or wet and his joints ached. He was making potions again – not with the exactness of before because that would never return, but it was not as dire as he had once thought. They had been married nearly six months.

They started at the top of the house and worked their way down. Hermione gave the elves there all clothing and those who didn't wish to be free were sent to Hogwarts for employment. Hermione didn't want any elves but Severus ignored her S.P.E.W. days and he would ignore her now. The elves from the Italy house were sent for.

"We can do the magical cleansing but if you think I will allow you or me to walk around with a mop or a dust rag, you've got another thing coming." he said.

"You didn't mind watching me mop when I was in detention!" she said.

"You weren't my wife, then." he said. "You were a snotty know-it-all child who needed to spend an hour cleaning cauldrons if only to keep her and the boy who lived out of another live or death situation for five minutes!" he shouted. Hermione's face lost its color. They didn't speak of Harry, especially in such a disrespectful manner. Snape realized his mistake immediately and reach for her but she brushed him out and walked out of the attic where they were standing, sorting through boxes of Malfoy history. She ran down three flights of stairs and out into the back garden where there was a big tree perfect for climbing. She was twenty-one now, too old for climbing trees. She was a married woman, with a huge rock on her left hand to prove it. This didn't matter, now, and she hoisted herself up into the branches grateful she was in jeans and an old t-shirt instead of proper clothing. The t-shirt was orange and celebrated the Quidditch team that Ron fancied. It'd been a birthday gift one year and she wore it mainly to do chores. One of the branches formed a V-shape where she could sit and have something to lean her back against and she did this now, and let a few tears run down her face. What would Harry say now? Here she was married to a man he despised living in the former house of his arch-nemesis.

If Draco ever got out of Azkaban, he was going to be pissed. This made her feel marginally better. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and looked at the ring there. She loved Severus. They had been through a lot together and she knew he respected Harry and what he did to save the world they lived in. It was just hard for him not to speak badly of Harry simply because he'd been doing it for so long. Sometimes Hermione had to fight the urge to call Snape a greasy git when he was being unreasonable even though she didn't think he was a git at all, let alone a greasy one.

She heard a branch break beneath her and she looked down. He was staring up at her.

"I'm sorry." he said.

"It's okay." she said.

"Will you come down, now?" he asked.

"I think I'd like to stay here for a while, if that's okay."

"You'll freeze. It will probably snow tonight." he said. It was cold, she could see her breath coming out in little white puffs and the tear tracks on her cheeks were nearly frozen. She was shivering. In the summer this tree would be filled with leaves to shelter her but now she must have been easy to find.

"Alright." she said, and climbed down, nearly slipping once but getting down unscathed. He rubbed his hands briskly on her naked arms.

"I've finished the attic. Would you like to burn some photographs and important family documents?" he asked, trying to cheer her up.

"You were friends with the Malfoys." she said. "Draco was your godson. Just because I hate the stupid ferret doesn't mean you need to destroy all evidence of them."

"I tried to save Draco from becoming his father." Severus mused, opening the door for her. "It was just another of my life's failures." Hermione didn't feel like giving him a pep talk at the moment and so she shrugged and moved into the large library where there was an enormous fire place, already alive with roaring flame. Nearby was a box of things like baby pictures, birth and death certificates, some of Draco's primary school achievements, and other things that must have had some sort of emotional attachment that Hermione didn't understand. For a moment she thought that burning these things would be wrong, inhumane. But then she remembered that Draco had stuck at ax in her back and she tossed the whole box in at once and retreated to the kitchen to make her self some tea.

It took a year to make the house as they wanted it. Severus had started working in the lab again, slower then he would have liked but working again all the same. She helped him with the more minute, delicate tasks and they were a good team. They published some in the scientific journals. Hermione decided to take up writing and would lock herself away in her office, a small room on the second floor that had once been a guest bedroom. Now it held a roll top desk, similar to the one she'd used when she'd taken over for McGonagall. There was a fireplace and a window that let the morning sun in. There was a love seat and a few book shelves that held her favorites, those dog eared, well read novels that she didn't want to get lost in the extensive library that had been formed when she and Severus had combined their collections, along with what they hadn't tossed from the Malfoy collection. Hermione wrote in the mornings between breakfast and lunch while Severus slept or went to town or worked in his lab. They lead a quiet life.

She published her first book in the muggle world. She'd had quite enough fame as the friend of Harry Potter and so when they asked her to do a book tour she declined. She didn't need the sales, really.

When Dumbledore passed away, Severus was offered the Headmastership once again but he declined. He had a love hate relationship with that school and he had spent his time there. Over half his life within those cold, stone walls. At night, he slept with his arm draped over his wife. She liked to work in the garden in the afternoons and so her skin was brown and freckled and she always smelled like sunshine.

Hermione got pregnant in the third year of their marriage, but lost the baby early on. She wrote another book. Her father died of prostate cancer and so, having a huge house and plenty of fresh country air, her mother came to live with them. Severus was dubious at first, having a Muggle move in. But Hermione had been raised Muggle and found she preferred to do things without magic. She preferred to wash the dishes by hand and she preferred to hang the laundry out on the line, carrying it on her hip in a wicker basket. The elves were instructed to never do magic around Mrs. Granger and as elves were experts at not being seen, it was rarely a problem.

Her mother's memory wasn't quite as strong as it used to be; she had Hermione when she was 40. Mrs. Granger's hair had turned grey and she was often confused but Severus was endlessly patient with his innately kind mother-in-law. He took walks with her in the garden, both of them limping slightly, holding onto each other instead of walking canes. He liked to hear about her life, to hear about Hermione's precocious childhood. It was hard to watch her mother's life begin to draw to a close. Both Hermione and Severus would live, most probably, well past the age of 100. At night, Hermione would sit at her mother's feet, as she did when she was a child, and her mother would tame her daughter's hair into a braid for bed. Her mother's fingers were narrow and deft and she was the only one who could make Hermione's hair look beautiful without the use of product or magic.

Severus made Hermione fertility potions in his lab and she took them dutifully and when she got pregnant again, the baby took. Her belly grew and she carried pregnancy with elegance. At night, when it was hard for her to sleep because her ankles were swollen and her back was sore, Severus would rub lotion into her skin with his strong fingers and whisper her to sleep.

* * *

a/n: that's it! this is the end. thanks to everyone who kept with it. i know this final chapter took a really long time. i'm in college, what can i say? i really hope you like it, i wrote this last chapter like three times. hee hee. thanks again to all who read and reviewed. 


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